^y- ■.* ,,*0 :^^^r DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Treasnre%oom GIFT OF Columbian Literary Society > CLARENTINE; ? BY MISS BURNEY, AUTHOR OF .TRAITS OF NATURE, GERALDINE FAUCONBERG, ETC. IN T^O VOLUMES. VOL, II. PHILADELPHIA: Fvhlishtd hy M, Carey Sf 8on^ J^Tv, 126, Chesmt street, 1818. CLARENTINE. CONTINUATION OF BOOK III. CHAPTER VI. THREE days had now elapsed since the depar- ture of Mr. Lenham, and Clarentine, though in that time she had hourly gained ground in the good opinion of Mrs. Barclay, began most impatiently to long fo- his return, when the following letter from him was brought to her : MISS DELMINGTON. Somerset-Hall, July 26- " -vly dear young Friend, " TLe intelligence I have to announce to you, it was my wish to communicate in person, but the pro- bable delays that will protract my return are so nu- merous, that I cannot any longer — possessing a se- cret which I think it will give your benevolent heart pleasure to be informed of— permit myself to keep you in ignorance. " Mr, Somerset's will, you have already heard, has been inspected. It was drawn up, as is evident by the date, three years since, and excepting a few trifling legacies to servants, contains nothing that does not relate to his son. In a codicil, however, which was added to it so lately as within four days of his decease, is a declaration stating, that — " In consideration of Clarentine Delmington's near affinity to his late wife, the testator gives and bequeaths, to the said Clarentine Delmington, the sum of 5000/. the capital of which is to be made over to her with- out limit or restriction, on the day she comes of age ; and in the interval between that period and the pre- sent, to be consigned to the management and trust of the Rev. Francis Lenham ; whom, in conjunction with his son, William Somerset, he appoints her guardian and trustee. Moreover, that from the day of his decease, the annual interest of the same 5000/. amounting to 250/. shall be duly paid during her mi- nority to the said Clarentine Delmington, out of his personal property in the five per cents." " Now my excellent young friend, suffer me to congratulate you upon this just and equitable dona- tion. To a mind disinterested and liberal as I was long since taught to believe yours, the value of such an acquisition, as it relates only to yourself, will be small, in comparison to that it must derive as relat- ing to those it may enable you to serve ; since now, although not affluent, you are independent ; and with sufficient to supply all your own reasonable wishes, have something to spare towards the wants — the equally reasonable, and far more pressing, wants of others. How many there are who might envy you this power ! and how many more, I fear, who might envy the disposition which I doubt not will lead you thus to exercise it ! " But permit me before I conclude, in justice to our absent friend, your guardian now, and always your most zealous well-wisher, to acquaint you with an instance of his early affection which, perhaps, may not have come to your knowledge. " There was a period when he had reason to ap- prehend — and indeed, till lately, who had not ? — you might at his father's decease be less favourably re- membered. Poor at that time himself, at least, com- paratively so ; extremely young, and totally depen- dent, he had no means of securing you any immediate provision : but his generous heart furnishing him with expedients for the future, although powerless at the moment, he formed the noble design of binding himself by the most irrevocable engagement, to en- sure to you, on his coming into possession of his for- tune, a fixed and certain competency. A promise to this effect I accordingly drew up for him, put into his hands to sign, and afterwards, at his own request, subscribed myself. " Upon the legality of such a deed, considered as the act of a minor, there was not, I acknowledge, much stress to be laid : upon the scrupulous con- scientiousness, however, with which he meant to ra- tify it, the firmest dependence, I am persuaded, v/as to be placed ; and therefore complying with the ear- nest solicitations of the youthful projector, 1 sent it to Sir James Delmington, enclosed in a letter which stated his motives for consigning it to his care, and the apprehensions that had urged him to draw it up. '* What became of this paper I know not, or whether it was ever mentioned to you 5s* being thought worthy of attention. At all events, it seem- ed incumbent upon me to revive the memory of a circumstance which does so much honour to the heart of Somerset — and which, without wounding your feelings, must so deservedly excite your gratitude and sensibility. " Farewel, my amiable young ward. I am impa- tient to return to you, yet, at present, totally unable A2 306321 to decide when that will be. Should you, therefore, have any motive for wishing to write to me before the end of the ensuing week, direct to me here, and be assured of the punctuality and readiness with which I shall at all times be anxious to execute your commands. " I remain, '' My dear Miss Delmington, " With the most affectionate regard, " Your obedient, " And devoted humble servant, F. Lenham." Clarentine had rapidly perused this letter three several times before she could persuade herself that what she read was real. Thus suddenly, thus unex- pectedly to find herself in the absolute possession of a fortune which to her moderate and rational mind appeared so ample, seemed too like enchantment to be believed ! — How was she ever to spend it ? How create to herself new wants sufficient to render it of any use ? The point was not easy to decide, since absurd as it would hitherto have appeared to her, for one instant to have indulged the improbable idea of ever becoming the uncontrouled mistress of such an income, she had not one favourite plan to advert to, or one long cherished scheme, however visionary it might before have seemed, which now she wished to realise. " This'then being the case," cried she, smiling at the perplexed, and even risible deliberation in which she had been engaged, " I must disclaim all title to the admiration which is the usual reward of genero- sity^ and learn to be content with the more humble commendation that follows justice. In disposing of my super-abundance towards the relief of those less bounteously provided for, I make no sacrifice, can boast no merit, and renounce no gratification. In reality I want nothing, at least nothing which in my present circumstances a third part of the annual sti- pend 1 am to receive will not abundantly supply. Beyond that, all which I might dissipate would be unnecessary and almost criminal. I have no fashiona- ble connexions j no expensive pursuits, no extrava- gant habits : in what then without torturing my brain to invent new modes of prodigality, in what could I (who have so long been inured to frugality and re- tirement) spend an income, which to me appears so boundless and inexhaustible ?" The result of these philosophical, but untutored reflections was, that, without communicating her pur- pose to any one, except Mr. Lenham, whom she thought it her duty upon all occasions to consult, she determined immediately to take upon herself the dis- charge of the full sum Lady Delmington now paid for her board and lodging ; and then, dividing the residue of her whole year's allowance into two equal portions, to appropriate the one, at least during her present exigencies, to the use of Madame d'Arzele ; and to retain the other, still more than sufficient to gratify every wish she could form, for her own ex- penditure. Having decided upon a plan, which thus effectu- ally relieved her from the troublesome embarras des richesses in which she had so sincerely dreaded to be involved, Clarentine, with a mind lightened of all its new cares, and a countenance more than usually ani- mated and glowing, descended rather before the ac- customed hour at which the family was wont to as- semble to tea, and joined Mrs. Barclay and her daughter in the garden. The vivacity that sparkled in her eyes, and the un- restrained gaiety with which she accosted them, ex- cited Miss Barclay's immediate attention ; and after staring in her face some time with great curiosity, she blmitly exclaimed — 8 " Why, in the name of wonder, what's come to you this evening? I never saw you look so lively and merr}' before. Have you had any good news ?" " Yes," replied Clarentine smiling — " I have had very good news." " I am glad to hear it," cried Mrs. Barclay, " I hope you will tell us what it is." To this, Clarentine not foreseeing the strange con- struction that might be put upon the uncommon cheerfulness she had betrayed, and naturally too open and undisguised to have any predilection for unne- cessary mysteries and concealments, readily consented, and in as few words as possible, frankly recapitulated the contents of Mr. Lenham's letter. When she had concluded — " Upon my word," cried Miss Barclay drily — "' I don't so much wonder at your sprightliness now ! You have good substantial reasons for it ; and yet, I don't know how it is, but I should have been tempted to imagine a young lady like you, whose refinement and disinterestedness has been so much cried up, would have shewn less rapture upon such a xvorldly 0€ca6'ion/ I am glad, however, to find there's not that difference between us I thought there was ; for to speak the truth, this is exactly the way I should have received such intelligence myself." " Ay, to be sure ;" cried her mother, intending to espouse Clarentine's cause, " You don't suppose Miss Clary has not spirit enough to be pleased as much as other people at such a lucky Godsend! For my part, I give her joy on't with all my soul ; and heartily wish she could do the same by me !" A cordial burst of self-applause followed this witty speech ; after which, Clarentine not choosing to en- ter upon her own vindication, very little more was said that related to the subject, and they all walked in to tea. CHAPTER VII. CLARENTINE, assured of being less unfavoura- bly interpreted by her friends at Delmington than she had been by Mrs. and Miss Barclay, wrote the next morning, a detail of the unexpected communi- cation she had received from Mr. Lenham, and en- closed an extract from his own letter, as a confirma- tion that seemed indispensably requisite of the won- derful and scarce credible tale she asserted. To this letter, a very few days brought her an an- swer, abounding in congratulations the most affec- tionate and cordial, not only from every individual of the family, but from Lady Julia, and her excellent father also. As for the warm-hearted Sophia, she seemed quite wild with joy — " only," as she confess- ed herself — " the idea of Clarentine's being doomed to live with such people as the Barclays disturbed her beyond measure." " I cannot bear your odious Miss Lucy," she ad- ded — " and can hardly persuade myself even to think with Christian charity of her mama. You speak very cautiously about them — yet I can plainly per- ceive they are the most contracted, narrow minded, vulgar animals that ever were created ! How is it possible such a polished amiable man as Mr. Lenham, can endure such creatures in his house ? — Quit them, for shame ! and come and live with your charming Madame d'Arzele again. Indeed, indeed these peo- ple are not fit society for my Clarentine. " As for Mr. Eltham, who you tell me has already introduced himself at your house, I suspect he will have some very entertaining dialogues with Miss Lucy ! She promises fair to become an admirable butt for him. Pray send me a minute account of his behaviour to her ; do all you can to persuade her to fall in love with him ; and then, if you desire effec- 10 tually to get rid of him, betray her to mama, and counsel the good lady to prohibit his visits ! You will laugh at this advice perhaps, but I can assure you, I should follow it myself very exactly, in the same circumstances. " But apropos — I scarcely know de quol though, but that is no matter ; let me inform you of that dear, delightful Lord Welwyn's enchanting plan for his daughter next spring. He means to take her to town for three months, in order to have her presented, and likewise in order to inure her a little to the bustle ard confusion of the great world, previous to her mar- riage. During the first month or six weeks of their residence in London, Harriet, en droit d'^ainesse^ is invited to be with them ; after which my turn is to arrive, and I am to join their party till their return to this place in May. Lady Julia's pretty mouth dim- ples at this prospect, when talking of it with me ; but at other times, if she sits and thinks of it alone, her timid heart sinks with terror at the idea of a scene so new, an introduction so formidable, and a manner of living so busy and so perturbed. Not so your enrap- tured Sophia. Having no presentations to fear (thanks to my obscurity, and thanks also to the rural style of life I seem destined to lead) all I look forward to is amusement, and all I anticipate is pleasure. Here^ these are things I never panted to obtain, because I very well knew they were not to he obtained ; but there^ as both are accessible, I am fully determined both shall be enjoyed ! And so, farewel my beloved Clarentine farewel till next April." Thus concluded this gay and characteristic letter. It put Clarentine into spirits for the day, and inspired her with so much joy on account of the happy pros- pect it held out for the spring, that her delight upon the occasion was scarcely inferior to that of Sophia herself. After an absence of near three weeks, Mr. Len- 11 liain at length returned. Clarentine welconjed him on his arrival with the truest satisfaction ; and im- patient to make known to him, and to obtain his sanction of her projected designs, seized the first op- portunity, when they were by themselves, of speak- ing to him upon the subject. To her intended donation annually to Madame d'Arzele, the nearness and dearness of that lady's relationship to her, and the distressed state of her actual circumstances, forbade his making any oppo- sition ; on the contrary, he applauded her purpose with warmth, and assured her he entertained not the least doubt of its meeting with the readiest concur- rence from Captain Somerset. With regard, however, to her payment of himself, during her residence at his house, he declined saying any thing, leaving her to settle the matter in what- ever way she chose with Lady Delmington herself. Thus authorised, Clarentine lost no time in farther consideration, but arming herself with courage for the arduous undertaking, immediately retired to her own room for the purpose of writing to Madame d'Arzele. Her letter, though short, was at once persuasive, earnest, and affectionate ; every motive she could urge in favour of her proposal was strongly dwelt upon, and forcibly pointed out. Eloquent, yet timid ; ani- mated, yet respectful, by turns she reasoned, and she sued, till argument itself was exhausted, and suppli- cation could reach no further. Enclosed in this letter, was a bill for 25/. deducted from the first quarterly payment she had received from Mr. Lenham ; an equal sum remained for her own use ; and the rest she determined to lay apart towards the discharge of the yearly pension Lady Delmington had agreed to pay for her. Her next business was, to inform that lady herself of her decision. This, though by no jneans so diffi- 12 cult a task as the former, was one, however, that still required the utmost delicacy and circumspection. Proudly, or ungraciously, after all the obligations she had received, to have rejected any further ser- vices the instant her dependence was at an end, would have evinced a degree of selfishness and ingratitude, of which Clarentine could not bear to be thought ca- pable. Her letter, therefore, though plain and can- did, was more humble and more diffident than any she had ever written before. By return of post she received the two answers she so ardently desired. The first she opened, that of Madame d'Arzele, affected her so deeply before she had proceeded half through it, that she had scarce power to read to its conclusion. The impassioned gratitude and sensibi- lity it expressed ; the kind and flattering acceptation it contained ; and above all, the tender acknowledg- ments with which it abounded on behalf of the help- less babes, to whom such a grant afforded certain maintenance and support, delighted at once, and dis- tressed the feeling Clarentine almost to an equal de- gree ! More than ever, however, did she congratulate herself upon the dispensation she had made, and more than ever prize the power she had acquired. Lady Delmington wrote with less enthusiasm, it will be believed, but scarcely with less affection. She agreed to her niece's proposal as to a thing it would .be indelicate to oppose ; yet at the same time rallied her with a considerable degree of archness upon the promptitude with which she had thought it necessary to announce her determination, and good humouredly cautioned her against adding one more, to the too- ample list that already existed oVproud Delmingtons. Clarentine, though she could scarcely help laugh- ing, was yet sorry to have appeared, even in jest, to require such a warning. She flattered herself, how- ever, that when she wrote again she should be able to prove how little it was necessary ; and meanwhile, discarding from her mind all reflections that could excite uneasiness, gave herself up without reserve to the pleasure that resulted from the consciousness of having benefited those she loved, and performed her own part with rectitude. CHAPTER VIII. SIX weeks had now nearly elapsed since Claren- tine's arrival at Hampstead, and except Eltham, who, in that time had repeatedly called, and Mrs. Denbigh, who, since the return of Mr. Lenham, often drank tea at the house, she had scarcely seen one individual who did not immediately belong to the family, or ventured beyond the limits of the garden, or the small field that adjoined to it. One evening, however, being left, at the end of that period, tete-a-tete^ with Miss Barclaj^ whose mother was gone to London upon business with Mr. Lenham, she consented at that youug lady's pressing solicita- tion to accompany her on a more distant ramble. The evening was so fine, and, when it contained no company. Miss Barclay's aversion to the house was so great, that night was coming on rapidly before Clarentine could persuade her to turn back ; and cpn- sequently when they arrived at their own door it was already completely dark. Rejoiced, however, to have reached home at all, Clarentine, after she entered, staid not to reproach her adventurous companion for her imprudence, but quitting her at the bottom of the stairs, turned short into the parlour to look whether any letters had been brought for her during her absence. As she opened the door, and was hastily advancing without any other light than that which a glimmering Vol. II. B 05 14 fire afforded, the tall figure of a man standing up im- mediately opposite to her, with his back to the chim- ney, startled her so much, that she was half tempted to run out again. Hearing one of the maids, how- ever, in the passage, she called to her, and with as little appearance of alarm as she could, said in a low voice — " Is this gentleman waiting for your master ?" " Yes, Miss — he came in just before you." Somewhat re-assured on finding he had gained le- gal admission^ she then ordered candles, intending the moment they were brought to quit the room, and rejoin Miss Barclay. Meanwhile, the stranger, (who in height and fi- gure bore so peculiar a resemblance to Eltham, that she was sometimes half tempted to think it was El- tham in person) had resigned his station at the fire, and very politely placed a chair for her near it, con- cluding she meant as well as himself to wait there till Mr. Lenham returned. Clarentine, too much embarrassed by the awkward- ness of her situation to attempt speaking, only bowed her thanks, without venturing to move from the door, which she held half open in her hand, ready to make her escape the moment the maid re-appeared. A silence so determined, and still more, the cau- tious distance at which she stood, seemed to excite the stranger's curiosity, for, before the candles could arrive, growing impatient to see her face, he once again approached the fire, and gave it so effectual a stir, that the bright flame into which it burst out enalDled him instantly to take a perfect view of her whole countenance, at the same time that it likewise afforded her an opportunity of examining him. The total silence that had preceded this mutual survey was now but of short duration. Clarentine, agitated, and ahnost breathless, broke it first ; and irresolutely advancing, said in an eager and tremu- 15 lous accent, whilst her eyes were intently rivetted on his face — " Do I deceive myself? Can this be real f Are you indeed Capt. Somerset ?" Somerset (for it was he himself) allowed her time to say no more. Struck by the earnest tone of her voice, and the touching sensibility that was evident in her countenance, his warm and affectionate heart sprung forth to meet her, and told him, at once, she could be no other than the dear, the pitied, and ever lovely orphan, whom he had parted from almost a child, and now beheld, in stature and in form, a fi- nished, graceful woman. " My Clarentine !" cried he, flying towards her, and taking her hand, '< my dearest Clarentine ! How little was I prepared for the pleasure of meeting you here! Do you live with Mr. Lenham? Have you been long in town ? Tell me, tell me every thing that relates to yourself, and every thing which you may reasonably suppose, a wanderer such as I have been, must wish to know and feel interested in hearing !" " I will," cried Clarentine, smiling at his eager- ness, " I will most readily : but at least sit down to hear my tale j for since you ask so much at once, you cannot expect me to be very brief." The entrance of the maid prevented her saying any more, and checked for a time the enquiries which Somerset was so anxious to pour forth. His eyes, however, during that interval spoke most expressive- ly, and as he again delightedly regarded her with looks of admiration and surprise, plainly indicated all the pleasure he felt, and all the friendship he retained. When once more they were left by themselves, he- sitating a moment, and half-smiling, he said, " The longer I see you, the less I know how to renounce my ancient privileges ; and yet, I ought not now to ad- dress you thus familiarly, to call you, as in former times, my Clarentine^ and to treat you with this un- courtly plainness. Can you, in consideration of what 16 I am, a blunt, unpolished sailor, can you pardon so glaring a solecism in good manners ?" " Would I could as easily pardon," replied Cla- rentine, a little reproachfully, " your long silence, and your breach of promise !" Somerset's gaiety vanished in a moment — " Is this," cried he, earnestly, " a just reproach ? No, believe me — frequently and constantly did I write, not only during my late West-India station, but also while yet cruising in the Mediterranean ; to some of the earliest of these letters I even received answers, but to all those of later date you have inva- riably remained silent." Clarentine at the conclusion of this speech looked a little conscious, and appeared at a loss what defence to make for herself. The fact was, that not having received, since he quitted the Mediterranean, any one of the letters he had written, she had grown weary of keeping up so languid a correspondence, and had wholly discontinued writing herself. This, after some hesitation, she honestly confessed ; and peace being then restored, Somerset earnestly besought her to gratify the anxious curiosity he had to know what cause had determined her to quit her former resi- dence. Though infinitely averse to entering fully upon this subject, and fearful of drawing upon herself the im- putation of vanity and conceit, Clarentine so far con- quered her reluctance, however, as to speak of it, af- ter the first moment, with all that candour and open- ness which Somerset's long friendship for her, his near relationship, and the interest he took in her af- fairs, entitled him, she thought, to expect. Throw- ing off all disguise, therefore, she frankly acknow- ledged that to Sir^Edgar's imprudent attachment was alone to be attributed her late removal, and her pre- sent situation. ^^ This confession naturally led to the mention of Lady Julia, whose engagement she spoke of with the 17 same sincerity, as well as of the obligation she had thought herself under, on account of the confidence and kindness with which her Ladyship had always honoured her, to repress any hopes Sir Edgar might have conceived with regard to herself, " Of perfidy towards a friend for whom I enter- tained so much affection, and who in herself was so amiable, I may venture to affirm," continued Ciaren- tine, " I should have been utterly incapable, even had my love for Sir Edgar been of a nature less sisterly than it was. Not for one moment, therefore, did I harbour the detestable idea— form the slightest wish of supplanting her ; neither should I have been weak enough, if I had^ to imagine such an attempt could ever have been sanctioned by his mother. Destined consequently, if I remained in the same house, to be- come an object of continual suspicion — to shun Sir Edgar assiduously — to dissemble with Lady Julia, and in return perhaps to excite only distrust, I now begin to think, however I might lament it at first, that the temporary banishment to which I have been con- signed, was the happiest thing that could have befal- len me. Sir Edgar also, I am now persuaded, thinks so himself. He has implicitly submitted to the wishes of his family, and ratified every promise that had been made for him." " Ten thousand thanks, my charming friend," cried Somerset, when she paused, " ten thousand thanks for this ingenuous recital. The noble sincerity that so early distinguished you — that so early excited the esteem and confidence of all who knew you, time, I perceive, has had no power to diminish. You. are still the same open, unreserved, and generous Cla- rentine I ever found you !" ''' I suspect by the warmth of this eulogium," re- plied Clarentine, smiling, " you impute greater merit to me upon the present occasion than I really deserve. Had my heart been as much a sufferer in this busi- B 2 18 ness as my pride, my frankness to you might indeed have claimed some admiration ; but that not bein^ the case, I had nothing more to overcome than a mo- mentary sensation of embarrassment, the natural con- sequence of bemg the heroine; and what is worse, the heroine m dzsgrace^oi my own tale. Let us now, however,- added she, "talk of something else. How long have you been in England ?" "A very short time," answered Somerset. He then proceeded to inform her of the dreadful shock he had received, on his arrival in Northamp- tonshire, whither he hastened the instant he landed, m total Ignorance of the melancholy event that had recently taken place. Unprepared as he was for such intelligence--di spirited and completely overpowered by It, he had for some days no courage to think of writing, or even to attempt moving from the gloomy and uninhabited mansion to which, with such far dif- lerent hopes, he had so eagerly repaired. Becoming impatient, however, to learn some tid- ings^ of his friends in London, but more particularly of the revered and venerable Mr. Lenham, he had macle an effort at length to shake off the listlessness and depression that had hitherto retained him in in- activity, and determined to set out and make those . inquiries in person. In London he had seen only the old domestic who still resided in his father's house ; and from him obtaining no satisfactory information^ had proceeded forward almost without stopping till he reached Hampstead. 7 his little narrative was scarcely concluded, before Mr. Lenham returned. Clarentine witnessed the first meeting of that ex- cellent man and his youthful friend, with the most sympathising emotions of delight and joy. They re- mained, however, but a short tiipe below, as the pre. sence of Mrs. and Miss Barclay, who soon after en- tered the room, seemed to repress the mutual over- ' 19 flowings of their hearts, and utterly to prevent their engaging in any confidential discourse. When therefore they had retired to Mr. Lenham's study, and Clarentine was left with the two ladies. Miss Barclay, with an eagerness it was by no means easy to account for, asked how long Somerset had been arrived ? where he intended to reside ? what stay it was probable he would make in England ? and so many oth«-r questions of the same nature, that Clarentine, unprepared for such an examination, at length attempted to check it, by saying — " I am not yet acquainted with half these particu- lars, my dear Miss Barclay, and therefore cannot possibly reply to them ; but tell me, whence this ex- treme solicitude concerning Captain Somerset ? did you ever see him before ?" " Yes, very often — and yet, it is not for myself I ask all this. I was desired by " She stopped, and colouring violently, presently added — " In short, I have reasons for wishing to know as much as I can about him. If you don't choose, however, to give me any information, I shall endea- vour to find out those that will." *' Why, what is all this fuss and secresy about?" enquired her mother, a little angrily — " I should be glad to know, Lucy, what Capt. Somerset can be to you !" " Lord, mama !" exclaimed Miss Lucy peevishly, " how should you understand any thing about the matter ! — I suppose I may ask a common question or two without being called to account for it like a child !" And so saying, she indignantly flung out of the room, throwing the door after her with such violence, that she made every window in the house rattle in its frame. '•'• Lord help us, what a girl it is !" cried her mother, as soon as she was gone — " there's no speak- ing a word to her without putting her in a pet! I dare 20 say, however, I have guessed pretty nearly what it is. Miss Clary, that makes her so curious about your cousin. She's a fool for her pains, and had much better be minding her own affairs, than trying to play other people's cards for them." Clarentine was totally unable to comprehend this hint, and but little inclined to seek its explanation. She therefore suffered it to pass without any comment, and Mrs. Barclay, the next minute, began talking of other things. At supper the two gentlemen made their appear- ance again, and Miss Barclay hearing them go down, smoothed her frowning brow, and tripped lightly af- ter them. She seated herself opposite Somerset, and devoted her whole attention to him ; frequently fixing her large dark eyes upon his face with an earnest- ness and perseverance, that no less astonished Cla- rentine, than it evidently offended Mr. Lenham. As for Somerset himself, it was some time before he ob- served her : but when he did, regarding her in re- turn with nearly equal curiosity, he suddenly address- ed her as a person he had that moment recollected, and said — " I think I have had the honour of seeing you somewhere else. Madam. Were you not with Miss Compton at Mrs. Castleton's near Portsmouth, just before my last embarkation but one r" Miss Barclay answered in the affirmative, adding, " Miss Compton is Mrs. Hertford now. She married soon after you sailed." " I hope," resumed Somerset, " she is well." " I have not seen her very lately," — replied Miss Barclay,—^" But as I understand she is now in town for a short time, I hope to have that pleasure to-mor- row." Somerset's enquiries, after this, proceeded no fur- ther : but Miss Barclay evidently wishing to dwell upon the subject, entered into a minute detail of every thing that had befallen her friend since her marriage ,• 21 and concluded by lamenting, in very strong terms, the unfortunate dependence and pecuniary embar- rassments to which so lovely and accomplished a wo- man found herself reduced. Somerset appeared to concur in this opinion very sincerely. He immediately wrote down Mrs. Hert- ford's direction, and declared his intention of calling upon her the next morning. This little dialogue, though it seemed not to strike any one else, surprised Clarentine extremely. In Mrs. Hertford she appeared fated to discover, acci- cidentally and by degrees, a woman, who though nearly a stranger to herself, was intimately known to every acquaintance or friend she had, and by each of them individually seemed to be held in a different degree of estimation. Eltham, she had found, thought of her with contempt, and spoke of her with derision ; Miss Barclay never mentioned her but with the most unbounded praise and admiration ; Mr. Lenham appeared not to doubt the respectability of her character, but, at the same time, to know too lit- tle of her to regard her with any thing but indiffer- ence ; Mrs. Barclay had already betrayed that she considered her as a coquette ; and lastly, Somerset, uninfluenced by the partiality of the one, or the pre- judices of the other, openly professed to feel for her the utmost compassion, and to look upon her with the truest esteem. How were all these various opi- nions to be reconciled ? Clarentine was lost in doubt and perplexity. Less inclined, however, to distrust the favourable sentiments of Somerset, than to sus- pect the judgment of Eltham, she once again, more strongly than ever, was confirmed in the belief that he had injured Mrs. Hertford, and causelessly led her to imbibe an erroneous idea of her. Well acquainted with the early hours Mr. Len- ham was accustomed to keep, his considerate guest took leave soon after they rose from table, promising 22 ^ to repeat his visit some time in the course of the fol- lovvmg day. Accordingly, the next evening, just as Clarentine, who, though she knew not why, had been called down to tea sooner than usual, was preparing to obey the summons, she saw him, from her closet window, open the gate before the house, and walk up to the door. They met at the foot of the stairs, Somerset on heanng her call to him having waited there till she ran down ; and after a short conversation enter- ed the parlour together.— In addition to the usual lamily party, they found, seated next Mr. Lenham at the tea table, his friend Mrs. Denbigh. Captain ^omerset knew that lady well, and immediately hastened forward to pay his respects to her; whilst f^larentme, mcapable of attending to any thing else, stood tor some minutes petrified with amazement, considering the altered dress, a^id strange decorations ot Mrs and Miss Barclay, who both, it was evident, were thus attired for foreign conquest, and perhaps also for domestic admiration. As soon as tea was over, and the two ladies did every thing m their power to hurry it as much as possible, Miss Barclay started up, and casting her eyes towards the antique clock, which, from the chimney-piece on which it stood, had with undeviating regularity monotonously chimed each revolving hour for more than thirty years, eagerly called out to her mother — " Lord mama, we shall be monstrous late ; pray get your cloak and let's be off." Young Blandford upon this addressed himself to Mrs. Barclay, and said — " Shall I be allowed to go with you ma'am?" " I don't know, indeed, child ; you hav'n't ffot leave, have you ?" ^ " O yes," said Mr. Lenham smiling, " if you choose to be troubled with him, he has mv full per- mission. ' " ^ 23 « Well then, good-by to you all," cried Mrs. Bar- clay, " good by. Come along, Lucy, come." " O, but stop, mama," said Miss Lucy, " stop a minute ; I forgot it till now ; but Mr. Eltham," added she, "overtook me in Pall Mall, just as I was step- ping up to Mrs. Hertford's door, and gave me a thousand messages to deliver to Miss Delmington ; they are half gone out of my head, but I remember, however, they were all excessive civil, and (audibly whispering, with affected mysteriousness) excessive tender ! There, now, I have executed my commission — Pm ready.— Come Blandford." Then followed by her mother, in as high spirits as herself, away tripped this exact and punctilious lady. Somerset, extremely amused by their eagerness, now asked whither in such haste they were gone ? Mrs. Denbigh, with a shrug and an emphatical groan, answered — '^ " To Breslaw's the Conjurer .'" Clarentine stared ; Somerset laughed ; and Mr. Lenham mildly said — " Nay, my dear madam, why should we despise these good people for seeking to divert themselves their own way ? If their minds are incapacitated for higher enjoyments, in God's name, let them go to the Conjurer'' s?"* " Why, truly," resumed Mrs. Denbigh, leisurely tapping the lid of her snuff-box, " if by some lucky slight of hand the cunning man could succeed in twirl- ing their brains round to the proper place, I should think their time could not be better spent : but with all his ingenuity, I never heard friend Breslaw pos- sessed the requisite abilities for such a task." " Who knows," thought Somerset, " what friend Breslaw might achieve if the brains were there to twirl !" Then addressing Clarentine — " How comes it," said he, smiling, « you were net of this party ?" 24, " I never heard it had been planned/' answered she, " till it would have been too late to have propo- sed joining it." " O, Miss Delmington, I understand," said Mrs. Denbigh, " is deemed utterly unworthy of being made a partaker of these refined amusements ! Mrs. Barclay was not even permitted to mention her in- tention before her." At that moment a loud ring at the gate-bell was heard ; and whilst Mr. Lenham was endeavouring to conjecture who this unexpected visitor might be, the maid entered, and particularly addressing the in- telligence to Clarentine, announced Mr. Eltham. Somerset, instantly recollecting the parting speech Miss Barclay had uttered, turned his eyes towards Clarentine with an arch smile, and was beginning to rally her upon this visit, when observing her change colour, and look extremely disconcerted, he checked himself in some consternation, and directed all his attention towards the door, at which Eltham, the next minute, made his appearance. Bowing first to Clarentine, as to the person whom his visit was principally designed for, and then in a more general way, to the rest of the party, he drew a chair near her's, and was upon the point of seating himself, when Mr. Lenham, who had at first forgot that ceremony, but now recollected that as they might often meet it would be necessary, begged leave .o introduce him and Capt. Somerset to each other. Eltham, starting at the name, and looking towards Somerset, who at the same moment bowed to him with the most eager curiosity, made a grave inclina- tion to him in return, and taking his place in total silence, assumed an air of extreme reserve, and spoke not for a considerable time, unless called upon by some direct enquiry. The first quarter of an hour v/as devoted, as is in- variably the case among people who know but little of each other's habits and connexions, to animadvert- 25 ing upon the heat or cold of the weather ; the fulness or emptiness of the town ; the dustiness of the roads, and other such enlivening topics ! By degrees, how- ever, the conversation took a more agreeable turn : Somerset, who at first had been too much offended by the cold haughtiness of Eltham's manners to bear any part in it, animated by the example of Mr. Len- ham and Mrs. Denbigh, made an effort to conquer his ill-humour ; and Eltham reviving likewise, and every where equally at his ease, and equally unem- barrassed, soon engaged them all three, either in earn- est support, or opposition, of the wild opinions he ad- vanced, and, at least, if he oould not cojivhice^ enter- tained; if he could not overpower^ perplex them. Clarentine during this conversation sat at work, and wholly silent ; but by no means inattentive. She was amused by the fire and eccentricity of Eltham ; charmed by the candour and patience of Mr. Len- ham ; surprised at the information and knowledge of Mrs. Denbigh ; and interested by the modesty, the good sense and unassuming gentleness of Somerset. In him, though she observed not the same boldness in maintaining extravagant systems, or the same rea- diness to assert^ and eagerness to defend preposterous chimeras that she discovered in Eltham, she per- ceived a clearness of judgment, and a consistency of principle, that weighed far more with her than all the false glare of his antagonist, the brilliancy of his wit, or the ingenuity of his arguments. This spirited, but amicable contention, lasted till the return of Mrs. and Miss Barclay, and their young companion. Eltham would then have taken his leave, but Mr. Lenham, naturally hospitable and polite, pressed him to stay supper ; and to this without mucli importunity, he consented. Meanwhile young Blandford, having seated him- self next Clarentine, was giving her, at her own re- quest, a circumstantial detail of all the wonders to Vol. II. C 26 which he had been a witness. The subject sooti drew the attention of Mrs. Barclay herself, who as much a child to the full as the juvenile narrator, hung over the back of his chair, assisted him in the recital when- ever his memory failed, and appeared to enjoy nearly as much delight in repeating- what she had seen, as she could have done had the whole been acted again before her. Their eagerness and volubility at length excited the curiosity of Somerset and Eltham, who now became auditors in their turn, affected to listen with the ut- most astonishment to the many surprising feats of dexterity that were recounted; and so enchanted the two relators by their earnest attention, that had not a timely summons to the supper-table interrupted the flow of their eloquence, Clarentine, must have despaired of release till the whole party broke up for the night. The conversation during their meal, though it was more diffuse and unconnected than it had been in the early part of the evening, was supported with good- sense by.90we, with good-humour by cr// present ; and when the hour of separation drew near, every body appeared to" think of it with reluctance. At the moment of taking leave, Eltham perceiving that Clarentine stood at some distance from the rest of the company, took advantage of the general confu- sion to approach, and address her in a low voice — " I begin to like your Somerset," said he, " better than I expected. He is rational without being dull; and the first in whom I ever found united tlie plain frankness of a sailor, with the good-breeding and the polish of a man of fashion !" " I am glad to find you so well disposed to do him justice," said Clarentine. " Ah, hut remember," resumed Eltham with quick- ness, — " remember upon what terms I do him this justice ; no longer than whilst he inviolably adheres to his present character oi guardiar.^ and oi friend I ' 27 "Then long, I believe," said Clarentine, smiling, •' long indeed may he flatter himself he shall retain vour favour !" " Are you sincere ?" cried Eltham, stedfastly re- garding her, " are you really sincere in this opinion ? You blush !" continued he, after a short silence. " Oh Clarentine ! you spoke not as your wishes, or your heart directed !"' Clarentine affecting to laugh, yet cruelly confused, turned away without answering him, and walked up to Mr. Lenham ; whilst Eltham, rooted for some minutes to the spot where she had left him, followed her reproachfully with his eyes ; and then, hardly con- scious of what he did, put on his hat, and ran abrupt- ly out of the room. Somerset soon after followed him, and Clarentine the next moment retired. CHAPTER IX. SOMERSET, unwilling to remove to any dis- tance from Hampstead, had now established himself at his house in Clifford street, for the winter, and scarcely suffered a day to pass in the course of which he did not, either morning or evening, visit his young ward. Attentive to the minutest circum- stance that could conduce to her domestic comfort and convenience, and well knowing that her ow?i would be the last wants she would allow herself to supply, he took the utmost delight in ornamenting and fitting up for her the favourite closet he had heard her so partially commemorate. Books, draw- ings, an excellent harp, purchased in consequence of having accidently learnt from Eltham that she used to perform upon that instrument ; in short, whatever 58 fancy could devise, or wealth procure to make this little retreat worthy of the lovely possessor, was pro- fusely lavished upon it; and by Clarentine, sensible of the generous pleasure he took in thus seeking to promote her satisfaction, gratefully, yet sometimes half reproachfully, accepted. If she walked out, he accompanied her ; whilst she sat working or drawing, he read to her ; whatever she expressed the slightest wish to learn, he sought the best instructors to teach her ; — and all this with such unpresuming delicacy, such a constant dread of disgusting her by too great an appearance of officious- ness, that his assiduities, far from oppressing, or lay- ing her under the smallest restraint, seemed but to wear the form of an affectionate brother's kindness, and never lessened, or for one moment checked that gay and innocent familiarity with which she had al- ways been accustomed to treat him. He was her counsellor, guardian, protector, and friend all in one ; she loved him with the most artless tenderness ; ad- vised with and confided in him implicitly upon all occasions ; received every fresh mark of his atten- tion with mingled pride and pleasure, as an addition* id proof of his approbation and good opinion; de- lighted in his society, and never felt so thoroughly elated as when she could flatter herself with the hope of having, by her cheerfulness, and zealous endea- vours to oblige him, contributed, in some measure, to his happiness from whom she derived so large a portion of her orvn. From a state of felicity thus pure, and thus serene, she was first disturbed by the importunate attentions of Eltham, and the yet more, to her, irksome and depressing visits of Mrs. Hertford. This lady of late renewing more closely than ever her former in- timrxy with Miss Barclay, and renewing likewise all iier former inexplicable civility to Clarentine, had established herself, for the remainder of the Autumn. 29 in lodgings within a ftw doors of Mr. Lenham's, and might almost be said to spend her whole time at his house. She was accomplished, animated, and at- tractive ; by the major part of the family, therefore, her society was considered as a most valuable acqui- sition ; and by every guest who met her there, she was flattered and admired. Yet Clarentine, who, mild and placid as she was, supported with patient forbearance the pert familiarity of Miss Barclay, or the abrupt vulgarity of her mother ; Clarentine, of wh om it might so j ustly have hitherto been said, that — " Her smiles were sober, and her looks •* Were cheerful unto all,"* in defiance of her wonted candour and sweetness, knew not how to endure this universal favourite. Vain had been every internal argument she had hi- therto held in her behalf ; vain all her attempts to banish from her memory the first disadvantageous impression she had received of her ! The more she saw her, the more reserved and distant she found herself involuntarily becoming ; and to so painful a degree did these sensations of dislike at length arise, that as often as she could, when Mrs. Hertford call- ed, she formed some excuse for quitting the room, and retreating to her own till she was gone. Somerset, unsuspicious of the motive that gave birth to this singularity of conduct, gazed after her on these occasions with looks of equal mortification and concern. Often, though without success, did he attempt as she approached the door to lead her back, or at least, to extract from her a promise that she would soon return. However gentle her refusals, they were always steady and firm ; she could give no reason for her inflexibility, but if urged too long, her eyes involuntarily filled with tears, she looked dis- • Reliques of Ancient Poetry. C 2 30 tressed and embarrassed ; and the generous Somer- set, too considerate to press her further, in silent won- der suffered her to depart. From her earliest infancy, Clarentine recollected to have heard it said, and by one whom she respected ,and believed, the honoured Lady Delmington, that the most certain cure for the dejection of a mind ill at ease, was activity and employment. Clarentine's mind, and she too well suspected the cause, was ill at ease, more so than she ever remembered to have known it before. I'o employment, therefore, the most diligent and incessant, she had eager recourse ; and though her own wishes would have prompted her to indulge in listles.sness, and even indolence, to her own wishes she permitted not herself to attend ; but spurred on by the hope of driving from her mind the sadness that oppressed it, ever}^ hour was devoted to the pursuit of some useful occupation, or to the accomplishment of some benevolent design. In com- pany with Mrs. Denbigh, who upon a longer ac- quaintance she found as much reason to esteem as to admire, she visited and relieved many of the sick poor in the neighbourhood ; recommended thtir children TO the notice and protection of Mr. Lenham ; found work for some of the young women who were willing to be employed ; and dispensed with so liberal a hand around her every blessing which kindness, sympathy, and timely, though not profuse donations, can con- fer, that however anxious and disquieted she might at intervals still feel, all real sorrow was nearly for- gotten, and in contemplating the few, but grateful happy she had made, she was sometimes more than half inclined to include herself m the number. 31 CHAPTER X. HITHERTO Clarentine, though she had now been at Mr. Lenham^s near four months, had rarely been in London, and, except to Mrs. Denbigh, had never paid any visits whatever. She knew not a single individual in town ; and Somerset had always so earnestly cautioned her not to accompany the Bar- clays to any of the inferior public-places to which they were perpetually resorting, that she had reso- lutely declined ever being of their parties. One morning, however, towards the latter end of November, hearing that the two ladies were going to town upon what they called shopping;' business, and meant positively to return to dinner ; wishing to seize that opportunity of making some purchases for herself, she proposed, if it was not inconvenient, go- ing with them. Somerset, who was present when this plan was agreed upon, very strenuously sought to obtain per- mission to attend her ; but this, Clarentine as strenu- ously opposed. Her prepossession against Mrs. Hertford had for some time past began to give way to a slight degree of resentment against Somerset himself. She feared to whisper it even to her own heart, and yet she could" not but feel, that the atten- tion he paid that lady ; the pleasure he appeared to take in her conversation ; and the flattering admira- tion he avowed for her, had excited in her breast at some moments an emotion so nearly bordering upon envy, and so closely allied to jealousy and anger, that there could be but one passion, to which such sensa- tions were to be attributed — and that passion was love ! Long had she most clearly discerned what were the designs of Mrs. Hertford herself; and long had she beheld with astonishment her artful and per- severing endeavours to captivate and attach him. 32 Floating between hope and fear ; conscious that her own heart was gone, and doubtful what would be the result of her rival's schemes, it had, however been but of late that she had seriously apprehend d' they would be successful ; every hour now confirmed her ,r»?H^ ' '''^° ^.^^""^^ perfectly to have pene. fea;^oftm:r::t ""'""'"'^' '°' ^"^"^'"^"^ '^' ^^■ 1 **j*^ the woman, however, whom he had thus se- lected, afflicting to Clarentine as it must ever have been to know he had selected any, possessed a cW racter more conformable to his own, and appeared to tl"ir ^/'"■^'"S. and more worthy, she^flattered herself and not unjustly, that she could have sub. The fir!t° ''?', "^'f PP^'^t^ent with greater fortitude. The first wish of her heart was to see him happy but happy she was too well persuaded a man like him -whose disposition was all kindness and affection, and whose attachments were all domestic— eould never be with a woman who, like Mrs. Hertford be trayed unconsciously a nature so devoid of sensibili- ty, a heart so selfish, and a mind so devoted to dissi- pation. ^iuT^™^'' ^hen silently observing them as they walked or conversed together, Clarentine had fancied this idea seemed to strike Somerset likewise. Her b andishments and her flattery appeared to fatigue him ; the coldest gravity often overspread his coun- vmT'v." '^-^ u^'t^ ?*'''"y ""'''^f' >'« ="^^<= knowing what he did, he had eagerly seized on the most fri- volous pretences to escape from her, and with stu- died procrastination delayed rejoining her again. On these occasions, had she permitted it, Claren- tme perceu^ed he would gladly have taken refuge with her. She avoided him, however, most assidt ously ; or if ,it any time accident threw her in his way when there was no third person present, behaved 33 to him with a reserve and formality, so unhke her former confidential gaiety, that although he formed not the most distant conjecture of its cause, he tound himself involuntarily repulsed by her coldness, and obliged to desist from all further importunity. Upon the present occurrence, this newly-assumed solemnity had shown itself with more than usual force, and Clarentine's rejection of him, uttered be- fore Mrs, Hertford, had been accompanied by a look of impatience, and a smile of disdain, that confound- ed no less than it amazed him. He gazed at her lor some minutes, as if he doubted the evidence ot his own senses, and then after a long pause, attempting to take her hand, said — « Miss Delmington, I entreat, I conjure you, though you have denied my first request, at least jrrant me five minutes conversation before you go ! "I cannot, indeed," replied she—" Mrs. Barclay, I believe, is ready, and it is time we should set out. Then turning to Mrs. Hertford, in whose eyes she beheld a gleam of malicious joy, that made her shud- der, she slightly curtsied to her, and leaving them together, hastened away. The moment she found herself at liberty, her 4uU heart bursting with contending passions, she gave way to an agony of tears, and rushed into the first room that was open, to conceal her sorrow and her weak- ness. Her face covered, and her aching head resting against a chair, she was vainly endeavouring to stifle the deep, and but too audible sobs that escaped her, when, in a voice of the tenderest compassion, she heard' herself suddenly addressed by the amazed and benevolent Mr. Lenham — " My gentle Clarentine," cried he, taking her hand — " whence this excess of grief ? Who has been with you ? Who is it that has thus cruelly disturbed you ? Clarentine, looking up, and deeply blushing, re- plied with a melancholy smile—*' The enemy who 34 drawing ifer hand-. ExTusT Z'J '"" S^"^'^' n*' guardedly expose myS'^ '"" =^^ '"^ *"^ """ So saying, without daring to wait till h^ «„^i, . her aga.n, she left him, and L up to her ^wn'^onl her to appear She h» ^•. ' °"" '""''^ compelled -ts§ii:S-^^^^^ -^ed;"ui:ti;':rorstar ^° "=" ^'^^-^ "^p-'-^^ wa^Sr^'ht^aToSartr:,'- ^'•^.- «-<='^y off." ^^"^ "°''°'*y t'' «'^y for," added she, " let's be ClalenTi^f ^'^i *:^ '^^^rr''"'- ^^^"^ '■"mediately ; consdornefth tirset^tC^t''?"^ '" *^^ to Mrs. Hertford, was stm ',,1 "" ?P''^ ''""■''yed merset, and sheh\Zf i *'^'>' """^"own to So- Mr T.^K '^"' ^'^°' ""erfy unsuspected bv h ^h riee th! "h*'°"= ^y^--^ °^^^ i"fo'-™ed her w th S af a friend's K'n^'^'J^f ="""S "^ to dine in the was to llT ^""^f'^^here, in the evening, there was to be a ^ran acter, but also of such respectable connexions, and such modest and unequivocal propriety of behaviour, had long off-ended him extremely ; it was therefore with the utmost readiness he undertook to execute the task assigned him, the very first time Eltham again came to the house. CHAPTER XII. THE admiration which Miss Barclay had con^ ceived, even from the first hour she beheld him, for Mr. Eltham ; the veneration she had for his splendid advantages of birth and fortune ; the striking supe- riority of his fashionable deportment, and easy ad- dress over those of everv other man she had till now conversed with, had so powerfuUy operated in his be- half, that, without its being necessary, according to Sophia's advice, for Clarentine to interfere in the business, she had indulged (unchecked either by her own pride or hisneglect) a very tender though,hitherto It must be acknowledged, very unprosperous predilec- tionfor him. The hard-hearted and persevering indif- terence, however, with which she daily observed that Clarentine received his attentidns ; the almost posi- tive opinion she began to entertain that even were he to 59 offer himself to her she would reject him, had of late infused into her mind a faint hope, that, by pursuing with him the same conduct Mrs. Hertford had adopt- ed with respect to Capt. Somerset, she might succeed, perhaps, in detaching him from so ungrateful a mis- tress, and win him over to herself. It now, therefore, became her constant study, by every method in her power, to attract his notice, and engage his admiration ; her dress, her language, her attitudes, her very voice betrayed the anxiety with which she not only prepared for his arrival, but sought, when he was present, to make herself conspicuous. Had he been grave and reserved, she would have at- tempted to appear soft and pensive — as it was, see- ing him always easy and careless ; often — to her'at least, — impertinent ; sometimes negligent and indo- lent, at others, active and animated, she endeavour- ed to model her own character upon his, and by turns to imitate every change that either accident or design produced in his behaviour. When Clarentine was not present, exclusively to engross his attention, there were moments when, in preference to sitting wholly unemployed, he would vouchsafe with an air of condescension, and frequent- ly in the midst of a yawn, to address to her a few un- meaning exaggerated compliments, for the mere pleasure of seeing her look languishing and affected. Once or twice, he had even given himself the trouble, called upon by her repeated though indirect challen- ges, to romp with her ; and after tearing her clothes, tiring and overpowering her, (for on these occasions he was seldom extremely gentle) used to throw him- self into a seat very composedly, and as he lounged back in his chair, amused himself with laughing at the strange plight he had put her into, and the dis- onsolate figure she cut ! As Miss Barclay neither possessed great refine- ment, nor great penetration, she was as little disposed 60 to resent his freedom, as she was capable of discern- ing what his real sentiments concerning her were. All she aspired to was his attention ; and proud of obtaining it in any way whatever, to the more, or the less respect with which it came accompanied, she was totally indifferent. It was on the third day after Clarentine's little ex- planation with Somerset, that at his usual hour, just as the family had met to tea, Eltham, for the first time since the night he had accompanied her from town, made his appearance. The party he found assembled, in addition to Mr. Lenham's usual in- mates, consisted of Mrs. Denbigh, and Mrs. Hert- ford. Somerset had been there before dinner, but went away in less than an hour. Clarentine's reception of him, as at all other times, was civil, but quiet and composed. Not so Miss Barclay ; her eyes danced with pleasure the moment he entered ; with an eagerness and officiousness that made even Mrs. Hertford stare, she drove young Blandford from the tea-table, and disturbed every body else at it, to make room for him next her ; look- ed at, spoke to no other person during the whole time he sat by her ; and in short, behaved with such ex- treme folly and forwardness, that Eltham, by no means the last to perceive it, had some difficulty more than once, to forbear laughing in her face. As soon as the tea-things were removed, Claren- tine, who, though she made it a point when Mrs. Barclay was alone to sit with her in an evening, thought herself exempted from this necessity, when the contrary was the case, rose to leave the room ; but Eltham abruptly starting up, and stepping be- tween her and the door, said in a low and supplica- ting voice, as she still advanced towards it— " You do not mean to consign me over to this in- tolerable circle the whole evening ?" " Intolerable !" repeated Clarentine in the same 61 tone, " Is Mr. Lenham, is Mrs. Denbigh intolera- ble r " If they were angels," answered Eltham, taking her hand to lead her back, " when you are gone, I shall wish them all utterly annihilated !'' then raising his voice, " What have you done, my dear Miss Del- mington, with your harp ? Do you never play now ?" "Yes," replied Clarentine, who rather than occa- sion any further contention, had walked back to her seat, " sometimes." " Suppose, my young friend," said Mrs. Denbigh, " you have it brought down this evening, and at- tempt by "A solemn air, and the best comforter *' To an unsettled fancy,'** to quiet and tranquillise Mr. Eltham ?" *' An excellent proposal ;" cried Mrs. Hertford smiling, " though one that, I own, seems to be ap- plying to Mr. Eltham something too much of the nature of the Tarantula .'" '^ I am not," said Eltham, " to be laughed out of my purpose ; therefore. Miss Delmington, suffer me to entreat you zvili send for it, or permit — what I should still prefer — my attending you to your own apartment to hear you." '^ A modest petition, truly !" cried Miss Barclay sneeringly, " I hope Miss Delmington means to com- ply with it." Clarentine's only answer to this was a request that Miss Barclay, who sat nearest it, would ring the bell to order the harp down stairs. It was soon brought ; and Clarentine, who had now taken regular lessons of a master for some time, and really played with admirable taste and expression, astonished and charmed Eltham so much by the ex- traordinary progress she had made since he last heard • Tempest. Vol. II. F her at Sidmouth, that he would not suffer her to rise, till the repeated yawns of Mrs. Barclay, and the loud talking of her daughter, warned her, by immediately stopping, not to lull* the one to sleep, or rouse the other to impatience. Eltham thanked her, when she got up, in the most animated terms, for the extreme pleasure she had given him, and was proceeding to ask her some ques- tions concerning the music she had been playing, when Miss Barclay peevishly interrupting him said— » " I fancy, Mr. Eltham, you would not be so fond of such dolorous ditties if you was'n't in love ?" " Every body stared, and Eltham, after a moment of astonished silence, said with a forced smile — - " And who told you, my fair interrogator, that I ■was in love ?" " O, Lord," cried she, " we all know thaty and with tuho too I" Then darting an angry glance at Clarentine, who, amazed and confounded, stood gravely looking at her, with her usual abruptness when any thing dis* composed her, she left the room. A dead silence succeeded her departure for some minutes ; Mrs. Denbigh, however, who sat near the fire before which Eltham was standing, at length in- terrupted it, by saying to him in a low voice, and with an arch smile^- " If your heart was not gone already, you could have no chance of resisting the amiable creature who has just left us !" Eltham, perft^ctly regardless of the presence either of her mother or her friend, coolly answered, as he leaned negligently back against the side of the chiip- ney*— ' " Love is a calmer, gentler joy, "Smooth are his looks, uid soft his pace ; *' Her Cupid is a blackguard boy, "And runs his link full in your face !" 63 This ridiculous, but apt quotation, conquered Uie gi-avity not only of Mrs. Denbigh, Mrs. Hertford and Clarentine, but even of Mr. Lenham. Mrs. Barclay, however, who, thoughrshe but imperf-ctly understood its direct tenour, very fully comprehend- ed the unfortunate term blackg-iiard^ and felt herself extremely offended by it, now said with great solem- nity — " Let me tell you, Mr. Elthanl, these are very strange liberties to take before me ; I should be glad to know why Lucy, though may-be she is a little pet- tish sometimes, should be called such low-lived names as them ? I'm sure she's done nothing hlackguctrd by you ; and as for talking bf links^ I don't know what you can mean by it !" Eltham bit his lips, and looking dovm as if appre- hensive his laughing eyes would betray him, said with some hesitation— *' Upon my word, my dearest madam, you totally misunderstood me. I was far from intending any improper allusion to Miss Barclay, be assured ; there is nobody I protest to you, that does her more jus- tice — that sees her real merit in a clearer point of view!" ^. " Well, well," cried Mrs. Barclay, somewhat ap- peased by this very satisfactory apology, " we won't say any more about it ; I suppose you did'n't mean any harm, and I might not quite make out what you were talking of; for, to tell you the truth, I know but little of these matters, and never was over and above fond of poetry and verses in my life." The extreme good humour and credulous simpli- city of this speech, really made Eltham half repent having ever been wicked enough to say any thing that would give her pain. He renewed his excuses and assurances of respect with infinitely more seri- ousness than before ; and then, finding himself per- fectly restored to her good graces, changed the sub- ject and gave the conversation a more general turn. 64 When he was rising to take leave, Mr. Lenhanrr, authorised by an intelligent look from Clarentine, begged the favour of speaking with him a few mi- nutes in his study.- Eltham, though the request seemed to surprise him, immediately agreed to it, and wishing the ladies good night, took up his hat and followed him. As soon as they were gone, Clarentine apprehen- sive of she knew not what, fearful of seeing Eltham, should he, after the conference was over, again re- turn to the parlour ; half wishing, yet half dreading, to hear its result ; and by no means assured, proud and fiery as she well knew he could be, that he would not break out into some act of extravagance and im- patience, put up her work in haste and alarm, and flew for refuge to her own room, determined not to venture down again till positively convinced he had left the house. In less than half an hour, young Blandford knock- ed at her door to tell her Mr. Lenham was in the parlour, and supper was ready. " And where is Mr. Eltham ?" cried Clarentine eagerly— " On his road to London, I suppose," answered Blandford— " He is not below, then ? — not in the parlour, you are sure ?" " Yes, quite sure ; he has never been there since you left it." Clarentine upon this opened her door, and telling Blandford she was ready, accompanied him down stairs. As she entered the supper-room, Mr. Lenham, she perceived, was walking slowly about it, looking imusually ^rave and thoughtful. Every body else was standing round the table waiting for him to sit down : he seemed not to observe it, however, till Clarentine appeared, when silently taking her hand. 65 he led her towards her accustomed seat, and then walked to his own. riar^n Durinc the whole time they were at table, Claren- tine watched his countenance with the '"O^t ^"•^■«»^ attention. By degrees the passing cloud that had . obscured it disparted ; he looked up at her wuh his wonted friendly cheerfulness; joined freely in the conversation, and before they rose from supper seem- ed wholly to have forgotten the little chagrin he had 'Thirchange gave her inexpressible pleasure; yet still eager to question him, contrary to tier usual cub- torn sh! lingered below till almost every body had quTtted the parlour, and then as he was l.ghtmg his candle to go'^also, softly approached h.m, and said m ^ u^Ma^Z dear sir, attend you for a moment to ^°"'^Yesf ^certainly," replied he ; and immediately went out with her. ^. „ . , >-i When they were alone, " Well, Sir," cried Claren • tine, hesitatingly, "how did your conference with Mr. Eltham terminate ? Amicably^ 1 hope , u On my part," answered Mr. Lenham, « perfect-j ly so ; I was firm yet civil ; and when I saw how il his pride brooked the affront, almost tempted to feel sorry for him." . ^ , Clarentine smiled—" I should never have sup- posed," said she, " Mr, Lenham^s pity could have been called forth by such a passion.— But tt^l^me dear Sir," added she more gravely, "has he promised to discontinue his visits in future ?— May I flatter myself his assiduities are entirely at an end . " I believe you may ; but not that if he meets with either you or me in the dark, he will hesitate to cut our throats." . t .» ^ « Horrible !" exclaimed Clarentir^) " wa& he tne« so very irascible ?"•— F 2 66 ii " against Captain sSett^I'''"""'^ turning pale, liev;, V rv dan^3°"' ebulht.ons are never, I be- -ouunn^iiuK3t oV"reVtr:r°/"' '°"^' ''^^y Christendom, and Mr Fhh f ^°°«'tution in " ^n his calmer moments then. Sir " askerl rin..^ ". J:.?.l.t:S .M'*a;:';.t'„r "•'- 67 him this privilege ? Whether, in short, I thought it just to /2?7??, or honourable to ijou f"* " Mr. Eltham," cried Clarentine, a little indignant- ly, " is' the only man breathing, I believe, who know- ing horv and xvhere that promise was exacted, would have ventured to speak of it to you as of one that he deserved should be kept. It was on my journey from Sidmouth, the night I slept at Salisbury, that, after having persecuted and frightened me till I was really glad to come to any compromise whatever, he drew it reluctantly from me, upon condition he con- sented immediately to quit me. This, at length he did ; and hitherto it has been solely in consideration of that engagement, extorted as it was, I have ever permitted him to see me." " All this, my dear young lady," said Mr. Lenham, " I was utterly unacquainted with ; consequently, to his serious enquiry had very little more to say, than that I would speak with you upon the subject, and ask whether it was your wish the promise should be continued or retracted. * If Miss Delmington,' add- ed I, * consults me in this affair, I believe Mr. El- tham, you know what my advice to her will be. Should you, therefore, hear nothing further from me, I beg what I have now said may be looked upon as conclusive.' Upon this he arose, made me a very cavalier bow, and departed." ^ ** And peace go with him .'"cried Clarentine, sigh- ing a weight of care off her breast, " I sincerely hope, that as mij visitor, at least, I shall see him here no more." She then thanked Mr. Lenham for the kindness with which he had undertaken so unpleasant a task, and taking leave of him for the night, retired to res*. 68 CHAPTER XIIL SOMERSET, disdaining all artifice himself, frank, honourable, and noble-minded, suspected not that it was in human nature, unless sunk to the lowest depth of depravity, to dissemble by system, and de- ceive upon principle. Clear-sighted and discerning in perceiving merit, he was backward in discovering errors ; and while it was possible to believe any ac- tion might have a right motive, obstinate in not im- puting to it a -wrong one. In courage^ in understand- ing, in fortitude a man — in heart and disposition he was still a child. The blunt unpolished beings with whom he had been accustomed to associate, though they had infused into his character no portion of their roughness, had maintained in it and nourished all its genuine simplicity ; and neither taught him the ne- cessity of disguise, or the advantages, of distrust. In favour of another, whom he wished to serve, he could be vigilant and obiservant ; in all that related to himself he was credulous and unguarded. Compas- sionate, kind and friendly, whoever he saw unhappy he sought to relieve ; whoever he believed deserving he sought to conciliate. A character thus open, thus undesigning and libe- ral, it required far less address than Mrs. Hertford possessed, to work upon and influence. Quick in penetrating every thought of his honest heart, and skilful in tracing every avenue that led to its approach, she began her operations with a sagacity, a cool de- liberate policy, that might have done credit to the noble principal whose agent she had condescended to become. It was not Somerset's affection she sought, or even expected to obtain ; she knew too well which way the wishes of his soul pointed, to have any hopes of directing them towards herself j the artless and unconscious Clarentine — Clarentine whose congenial 69 tiiincl so well accorded with his own, she was per- suaded engrossed them wholly. Still, however, with such a man she had hopes of succeeding ; it was yet possible to interest his compassion, excite his pity, though she procured not his love ; and, as to his for- tune only, his rank in life and independence she as- pired, the feelings to which she might be indebted for his hand, were to her indifferent. When at Portsmouth just before her marriage, she had first seen him, cold-hearted, and self-interested as she was, she had been unable to defend herself from experiencing an involuntary sentiment of admi- ration in his favour. The noble, graceful and unaf- fected dignity of his deportment ; the interesting ex- pression of mingled animation and sweetness that characterised his countenance ; the gentleness of his manners ; the good-sense, good-humour and spirit of his conversation, it was impossible wholly to disre- gard. Even Mrs. Hertford felt the influence of quali- ties so amiable and so striking; she felt it, however, without any diminution of her tranquillity ; and had Somerset, at that time dependent upon a mercenary father, offered himself to her at the very moment her partiality for him was the greatest, Mr. Hertford, wholly his own master, and said to be very affluent, would have been unhesitatingly preferred. Yet anxious to reserve to herself the power, when- ever Somerset returned, of rehewing her acquaint- ance with him — pleased with the prospect, though now married, of being followed and attended by him, she most assiduously courted, (in remembrance of their near relationship to Mr. Lenham, Somerset's best and earliest friend,) the intimacy of Mrs. and Miss Bar- clay, during the whole time she remained in Eng- land. From them, wherever he might fix, she hoped to hear of him : but long before his first voyage was over, those hopes were for a while driven from her recollection by the alarming derangement of her hus- 70 band^s affairs, and the melancholy necessity that drove them both to the continent. Returning at the end of her long exile as penniless, as destitute, as when the infatuated Hertford first chose her for his ruin ; disappointed in her ambi- tious projects of forming a second establishment abroad, and hopeless among those by whom she was too well known to form one in England, her thoughts again reverted to that Somerset, whom having seen only by accident she had hitherto seen without seri- ous design ; but whom now, persuaded he could have heard nothing of her former conduct, and assured she could only have excited in him sentiments that were favourable to her purpose, she determined to pursue, and whether still in expectation or already in abso- lute possession of his father's property, to captivate and conquer. Her first eager enquiries after him were answered by Miss Barclay, with the welcome information that his arrival was hourly looked for, and his delay ex- tremely wondered at. The same letter brought her intelligence that Clarentine Delmington, the orphan relation and favourite they had both heard him speak of so partially, was upon the point of taking up her future residence at his late tutor's, and meant to set out for Hampstead in the course of a very short time. She was then at Sidmouth ; and Mrs. Hertford, as desirous to conciliate her favour, as she was from the same motives to cultivate that of the Barclays, sought with such diligent, though ineffectual assidui- ty to establish an intimacy with her, that, had suspi- cion been a weed of native growth in the mind of Clarentine, those assiduities alone would have been sufficient to have fed and cherished it. Innocent, however, and candid, little as she felt disposed to love Mrs. Hertford, she permitted not herself literally to distrust her till after the first conference she held concerning her with Eltham. Often had she since 71 endeavoured to erase that conference from her re- membrance, particularly from the moment she found Somerset spoke favourably of her, and Mr. Lenham seemed to regard her with esteem ; but the palpable artifices (palpable, at least, to the keen discriminating eye of jealousy) with which she had now during so many weeks seen her studying to recommend her- self to the one, and to conceal her designs from the other, had at length so wholly conquered Clarentine's generous scruples, that she never beheld her without experiencing a sensation bordering upon disgust and horror. Yet the success that had hitherto attended Mrs. Hertford's schemes had neither been very flattering to her vanity, nor very cheering to her hopes ; her soi disant passion, though acknowledged with an honest sincerity for which she seemed to expect great credit, to its pretended object, whom she found im- penetrable to mere hints and looks, had till now ap- peared to create in him only perplexity and uneasi- ness. He frankly confessed to her, and his confes- sion -was honest, that his heart was no longer his own ; that he felt for her the truest admiration, the utmost gratitude and the liveliest friendship j but could never hope to repay the distinction with which she honoured him with any sentiments more fervent. Mrs. Hertford sighed, heard him with blushes and with tears ; protested his happiness was so much dearer to her than her own^ that could she but once see it se« cured she cared not what fate might await her; sup- plicated the continuance of his regard ; claimed even his compassion, and ended by declaring she would never mention her unfortunate predilection to him more. The next day, however, the day following, and every day she could speak to him apart, the samp suhjtct was revived, the same protestations poured ferth, the same lamentations indulged ! Somerset, 72 confounded, distressed, often weaned, sometimes an- swered her with the most respectful seriousness, at others, gently rallied her upon the unmerited conde- scension with which she treated him, and besought her for both their sakes to forbear renewing a con- versation he grieved to say was so useless, and was certain must be so humiliating. Mrs. Hertford upon these occasions had the art to conceal her consternation under the more touching semblance of sorrow and despair. Sometimes also she would talk to him openly of Clarentine ; insinu- ate that she had discovered her to be the object of his attachment, and with that species of guarded warmth so necessary in order to avoid all appearance of affectation, speak to him, as if involuntarily, of her beauty and her merit, and dwell with modest can- dour upon the many reasons she had to fear such a rival, without being able to discover one that could justify her in seeking, even if she had the power, to detach him from her. Penetrated by this generosity, charmed from what- eve'r quarter to hear the praises of one his heart so fondly cherished, Somerset, no longer languid, no longer absent, listened with an avidity and a delight to all she said upon the subject of Clarentine, that convinced her sagacious rival she had at length dis- covered a never-failing, though a borrowed magnet of lasting attraction. The hope, towards its close, of hearing that beloved name coupled with praise, made him patiently attend to all that in the early part of every conversation was irksome or embarrassing. His friendship, his concern for Mrs. Hertford redou- bled ; and as Clarentine's reserve increased, the only consolation he seemed to find was in the sympathising pity of htr gentle competitor. It had once been Mrs. Hertford's plan to infuse into his mind a jealous distrust of Eltham ; that, however, as it was impossible to eifect it without be- ing often subject to seeing Eltham herself, she very soon relinquished all idea of, dreading no one's re- marks or observations so much. Arch and signifi- cant as Eltham had often looked when witnessing her attentions to Somerset ; thoughtless, flighty, and un- governable as he was, he might, either designedly or by accident, reveal so many things it was her interest to keep secret, that she trembled every hour at the consequences of his perpetual visits. To check there- fort, or, if possible, entirely to put an end to them, she described him to Somerset as a man, who, under the appearance of careless gaiety, concealed such li- centious principles, such determined libertinism, that b.e was by no means a proper character to be admitted, where there was a young woman so inexperienced and attractive as Clarentine, upon such familiar and intimate terms. The very partiality she had, whilst at Sidmouth, suspected Clarentine to entertain for him, she now changed into, what she had since per- ceived it really was, embarrassment and apprehen- sion ; spoke of the uneasiness she was sure his pre- sence often gave her with concern and pity, and urged Somerset to consult her upon the subject, and endea- vour, as quietly as he could, to relieve her from such wearisome importunities. Yet whilst thus anxious to deliver herself from El- tham as a spy upon her own actions, she deeply la- mented the necessity she was under at the same time of removing him as a rival from Somerset. What could she now hope would prevent his seeking an ex- planation with Clarentine of her late coldness ? and when that was explained, what could she hope would longer separate and disunite them ?■ — These questions were difficult to resolve ; Mrs. Hertford, however, fertile in expedients, did resolve them, and fixed upon a means of division she wisely concluded would be infallible. YoL, IL G • ' 74 Deeply versed in the art of investigating the cha- racters of all those whom either her interest or her inclination induced htir to court, and equally dexte- rous in knowing how to select from each the differ- ent qualities that could best be applied to her own service, it was not long before, in the delicate, disin- terested, but of late, somewhat irritable mind of Cla- rentine, she discovered feelings upon which she might as successfully operate as upon the unsuspecting li- berality of Some rse^t. From Clarentine in person, then, she was deter- inined the final crush of Somerset's future hopes should come ; but as she had great reason to believe Eltham, finding himself banished from her presence upon any other terms, would, rather than lose her without a struggle, renew his assiduities upon the professed and honourable footing of an avowed pre- tender to her hand, she waited to begin her machina- tions till she saw w^hether her suspicions were reali- sed, and whether Clarentine herself consented to ac- cept him. CHAPTER XIV. MRS. HERTFORD was too good a judge of the human heart to be often in danger of forming wrong conclusions. A week had scarcely elapsed since the dismission of Eltham, when one morning before Cla- rentine was up, the following letter from him, said to be brought by one of his grooms on horseback, was. delivered to her. MISS DELMINGTON. " Barbarous, tyrannical and unpitying Clarentine ! Tell me, was it by your stem decree I received so 75 insulting a prohibition ? Gentle and merciful as you are to others, why ever thus inexorable to me ? Oh ! if 1 dared give utterance to half my indignation against you — against the cold-blooded, phlegmatic politicians who surround you, how madly I could rave and imprecate ! " With a woman's form, with every attractive grace, every fascinating charm the loveliest woman can boast, you possess, unfeeling Clarentine, the cal- lous, the impenetrable nature of a rock ! Did you even take the trouble to seek ^ prete/ice for d'lsc^rdinQ me ? Did you by one alleviating, one warning sen- tence prepare me for my doom ? No ; you stabbed nie by surprise ; chose the very moment when, most implicitly relying upon your once promised confi- dence and friendship, I thought myself secure and unendangered. What a time to select for such a blow ! It came upon me with the sudden shock of an unexpected and resistless thunder-stroke ; and but that a wQ7nan was its cause — that a ruomaii's haiiddX- rected it, scarce could it have appeared to me possi- ble or real ! " You will tell me, perhaps — if indeed you think it vvorth while to attempt any extenuation of an act so inhuman, that it was not performed at your insti- gation: credulity itself, however, could give no faith to sucii an assurance. Who would, who ought to hazard so arbitrary a proceeding without your con- currence ? Oh, Clarentine ! I know you too well — I fear also I know too well the actual state of } our re- lentless heart, to entertain any doubt of the read'/ participation you gave to the whole business. " AV'ould to heaven I had never seen you ! never indulged the fatal propensity that led me to seek such dangerous society ! From the hour I first knew you I may truly say I have never enjoved a single day's uninterrupted tranquillity. I am sick of such an ex- istence : and after this one, this final effort to induce 76 vou to soften its wretchedness, am determined, it' it iails, to shun you during the remainder of mv life » "Asa friend, dearest Clarentine, you reject me ; as a lover you repulsed and scorned me ; as a pro- tector you distrusted me: yet, fairest and best of hu- man beings ! as a friend, a protector, a lover, all in one— as the partner of your future life, the grateful sharer of all your joys, the participator and soother of all your cares— as the man, in short, whom the most mdissoluble ties have bound to you at the altar the most fervent affection attached to you for ever' will you yet, oh gentlest Clarentine ! will you vet vouchsafe to receive me ? " Artless and generous as you are, I know that from suspense or delay I have nothing to apprehend : I can support neither : decide then upon my fate, hut with the same mercy, as you will with frankness ; and m the happiest of men, and the most ardent of admi- rers, expect soon to behold your faithful and devoted, " George Eltham." The surprise, and sometimes even anger of Cla- rentine whilst reading this strange rhapsody, could only be equalled by the impatience she felt to answer it.^ Rising therefore immediately, and dressing her- self in haste, she sat down, and without a moment's deliberation wrote the following reply : GEORGE ELTHAM, ESQ. *«^ Yen were right. Sir, in doing me the justice to be- lieve, that on a subject like the one upon which you have been pleased to address me, I should make it a point not to keep you an instant in suspense. " Accept then. Sir, my best thanks for the honour of your good opinion, but permit me, positively and for ever, to decline availing myself of it. " I have the honour to be, your grateful and ob- liged humble servant, '' Clarentine Delmin.gton."' 77 Of this answer, though she kept no copy, it was not difficult on her descending to breakfast, and find- ing Mr. Lenham alone in the parlour, to give him a faithful account, at the same time that she shewed him the letter that had occasioned it. " It is well," said Mr. Lenham, returning it to her after he had read it, " it is well and happy for this \oung man he has, at length, met with a friend ho- nest and independent enough to give him such a les- son. Naturally arrogant, and rendered still more so by the unlimited prosperity that has attended him through life, he seems to think the world was made to bow down before him. Pain or uneasiness, being almost a stranger to the verv name of either, he sup- ports with a proud impatience that irritates their smart, and gives fierceness rather than sorrow to his complaints. Whilst he could see }ou as often as he wished, talk to you of his passion, and apprehend no other impediments to his visits and importunities than your soft and gentle remonstrances, he was happy, because unrestrained. Tour peace, your tranquillity, he thought not of; nor would this offer, he acknow- ledges it himself, ever have been made but to relieve his ow^n inquietude." " I fancy," said Clarentine smiling, " it was his intention to do me a great deal of unmerited honour ; -since, having once declared himself, he seems to think that a sufficient retribution for every offensive and passionate expression contained in the rest of his let- ter, and dreams not of making any further apology." Just then the door opened, and Mrs. and Miss Barclay entered to breakfast. It was not long now before Mrs. Plertford, having obtained information of this whole transaction, begun her plan of operations. Bringing her work one morning, as was frequently her practice, and establishing herself as soon as break- fast was over in Mr. Lenham's parlour, she happen- G 2 78 ed accidentally to be left alone with Clafentine, who, absent and thoughtful, was leaning in unusual inacti- vity over the back of a chair, opposite one of the windows. After a short silence, during which Mrs. Hertford, discontinuing her employment, sat attentively observ- ing her, she at length said, in a tone of kindness and concern — " What is the matter, my dear Miss Delmington ? I have remarked for some time past with infinite re- gret, that the cheerfulness and animation which dis- tinguished you when I first came hither, has totally disappeared, and given way to an air of melancholy painful to behold." Raising her eyes at the beginning of this speech, but vv'ithout changing her attitude, Clarentine fixed them with the most steady and unmoved composure upon Mrs. Hertford's face, and after a moment's pause replied — " I expected not, madam, to have excited in your breast an interest so generous concerning me. You are extremely good, and I feel grateful for your en- quiries, but must be excused answering them." She would then have quitted the room, but Mi». Hertford, recovering from the momentary conster- nation a coldness so repulsive had occasioned, called her back as she was opening the door, and hastily -said — " Allow me, Miss Delmington, if you are not par- ticularly engaged this morning, to request the favour of five minutes conversation with you." Clarentine, still grave and frigid, yet evidently- much surprised, slowly turned back, and drawing a chair towards the table, seated herself without speak- ing— " I know not, Miss Delmington," said Mrs. Hert- ford, at length forcing herself to begin, " whether the cotifidence with which I am about to trouble you 1 79 ■\vill appear deserving your attention, but the predi- cament in which I stand renders it necessaiy, that, to ensure my future peace of mind, I should now be explicit and unreserved with you." " I am ready, madam," said Clarentine involunta- rily dreading some latent artifice, " to hear all you may wish to communicate." ^' You are very good, and give me courage to go on. I will frankly confess to you then Miss Del- mington, that, the worth, the spirit, the generosity of our mutual friend. Captain Somerset (Here Claren- tine turned pale and almost started) has made an im- pression npon my heart, too deep to be easily effaced, I knew him before my marriage, and even then, though I entertained not for him the same senti- ments a longer acquaintance has brought on, thought him one of the best and most amiable of men. This partiality, however, this admiration, grateful to me as it is to indulge, I have for some time struggled anxiously to repress and conquer. A suspicion — rnay I tell you, my sweet friend, of what nature ? a suspicion the most agonising and painful has haunted and pursued me, and till from your own lips I hear it refuted or confirmed, I can know neither rest or peace." Too well foreseeing what was coming, Clarentine abruptly arose, and again moving towards the door, said — " The suspicions, Madam, whatever they may be, which you entertain concerning me, I have no wish to hear explained : act, therefore, I intreat, as if they had never occurred to you, and accept my best wishes for the recovery of that peace they have been the means of interrupting." She would then, with a calm dignity that almost over-awed even the intrepid Mrs. Hertford, have im- mediately left the room, but again supplicating her to return, she cried — 80 • ?^r^^r^^' ^^^^ ""^^ ^^^^ ^"d generous Claren- tme ! My fate is in your hands : decide for me what It shall be, and keep me not longer in this torturing suspense Tell me," added she she, with quick- ness, " tell me, do you love Somerset ?" Clarentine's cheeks glowed with resentment, and her whole frame trembled with agitation as she dis- damfully rephed — u- ll^^^l"? }'^''^ ^^^P^^' Madam, that the reserve which has hitherto subsisted between us would have precluded the possidiliti^ of your ever asking a ques- tion which, even from a bosom friend or a sister would be indelicate and unwarrantable." ' " You will not answer me then ? vou will not so much as tell me whether by accepting Somerset's faith I wrong or — " "Good God!" interrupted Clarentine, "do you beheve. Madam, I would restrain vou, /would with- hold you ? O no ! If Mr. Somerset has offered him- self to your acceptance, if it is his design to become yours, make him but as happy as he is deserving and be assured I have no other wish." "Excellent, noble creature!'' exclaimed Mrs. Hertford with energy, " How do I honour the force of mind which can thus prompt you to renounce " Again Clarentine, though with less perturbation interrupted her—" You have extremely mistaken my sentinients. Madam," said she, " I renounce nothing? for I have had no pretensions ; I exert no force of viznd, for I have had no weakness to conquer. Praise so humiliating, therefore, I must request to he spared." " You amaze and you delight me !" cried Mrs Hertford. « So wholly, indeed, had I mistaken you," that, attributing as well your late depression as your refusal of Mr. Eltham to the same cause, hoping to serve you, I ventured, however cautiously, to in- sinuate my suspicions to— Somerset himself." 31 With a start that was almost frantic, and a look at once wild and indignant, Clarcntine tremulously re- ^TrrSomersetJ you had the cruelty, the unfemU nine, merciless cruelty to repeat such conjectures to C;«.i.'Oh speak," addedshe with qu.cknes5,"tell -':. SttSr^s^c'replied Mrs. Hertford ;is the least vain of any man I know : he might have his '°"'oh'he7vens!" exclaimed Clarentuie sinking upon a chair, and covering her face with her hand- kerchief in an agony of shame and mortification, u Wh't is it you have done ! why raise such msult- ing doubts ? Lu have ruined, you have wil ully a.^ irreparably injured me, and never more, f I can •avoid it, will I see either Somerset or you ! She was then, half distracted, hurrying out of the room: but stopping short at the door, and looking 'TtIi him," cried she, speaking with equal haste and emotion " tell him, at least when you are mar vied and I am gone from this hateful place, how lit- te you were justified in forming such suspicions ! whatever loye"", whatever friendship I once felt for him is now all converted into horror . She then rushed out of the room. Mrs Hertford, assured her labour was now com- nleted and fearful, if Clarentine was seen in her pre- sent agitated state of being suspected as its cause soon after collected her work, and telhng the mad at the door she had suddenly remembered some busi- Lss that called her home, left her compliments to the ladies, and quitted the house. c r„„i„ Th^ detestable insinuation she had so unfeehngly persuaded her unhappy victim had escaped her it was nothiuK less than true she had ever dreamed ot uttering ; she knew too well the effect it would have 82 upon the enraptured Somerset to venture so dantrer- ous and unnecessary an experiment, and perfectly convmced Clarentine's pride and indignation woul^ be such as to lead her now most anxiously to shun eyery opportunity of being alone with him/she rest" ed secure m the firm belief they would come to no explanation, but with increased"^ reserve c^nt nu" one from consciousness, the other from mortification' to ayoid all occasions of being together ' event rJ?.'T" '^^ u""' ^°">pletely justified by the or of .n '^'^'"f °^' "hose passions either of sorrow or of anger, when they were once thoroughly roused, the keenness of her sensibility rendered it extremely difficult for her to subdue, had been so deeply hur^ by the scene of the morning, and still felt herself so d sturbed and irritated, that, when she received the usual summons to dinner, hearing Somerset, at whose very name she shuddered, was below, sh; pllded indisposition in excuse for not going down. In a few moments Mr. Lenham, ever kind and attentive, was at her door to enquire' personalty afer She went to him the instant she heard his voice and affecting to speak with cheerfulness, made light of her complaint, mtreated him to go back to Uie tamily, and to quiet his own apprehensions about her. " I shall be well, dear Sir, in the evening," added she, forcing a smile, " and hope to be able to keep TlrTS^Tr'. "',* ^^f • °^"'^'Sh, at whose house I promised to drink tea." Somewhat re-assured by the composed and tran- him Mr 't" ""t'"^ she compelled herself to answer him, Mr. Lenham, telhng her her dinner should be ;rpfrbur'' ""' "P' ''^" '''' ^^'•' ='"'' «*'--d t° There had been a time when Somerset, open and undisguised, attached to her by every tie of gratitude and ot love, would have permuted no consideration, 83 on hearing Clarentine was ill, to have prevented his flying with anxious precipitation to soothe, and if possible, mitigate her sufferings. That time was passed : it was long since, in the favourite retreat he had taken such delight in decorating for her, Claren- tine, by one encouraging look or smile, had granted him admittance. Checked by her coldness, which, though within a few days it had begun to abate, he still remembered with a mixture of sorrow and pride, all that animated sensibility with which he had for-, merly addressed her, with which he had spoken, not only of her, but to her, had been succeeded by a studied, distant civility of behaviour, equally well calculated to conceal his real sentiments from others, and from herself. The first emotion and alarm, therefore, which the report of her indisposition involuntarily led him to betray, having subsided, upon hearing Mr. Lenham had seen, and found her better than he expected, during the rest of the day he carefully avoided men- tioning her name, and affected, though with but lit- tle success, to discourse upon general subjects with the same ease and calmness as usual. Meanwhile Clarentine, eager to get out of the reach, as well of Mr. Lenham's enquiries, as Somer- set's dreaded presence, stole down the stairs as softly as she could when the hour was come at which she was accumstomed to repair to Mrs. Denbigh's, and taking one of the maids with her, let herself out at the garden gate, to avoid being seen from the par- lour windows, and proceeding lightly forward, soon reached that Lady's house. It was no difficult task for Mrs. Denbigh, saga- cious and penetrating as she was, to discover in the looks and voice of her young friend, the most mani- fest symptoms of perturbation and uneasiness. Cla- rentine's countenance was one of those, which, in- genuous and expressive, it was as easy to read as to u iintlerstand ; and though since the morning she had not shed one tear, heaved one sigh, or given way to any feelings but of indignation and resentment, her eyes looked so heavy, her heart seemed so oppressed, and she spoke with such unusual rapidity and inco- herence, that, almost frightened to behold her, Mrs. Denbigh, after a short and anxious examination, earnestly called out — " My dear child, in the name of heaven ! what has happened to you ? Why do you look thus strange and thus disturbed ?" This eager enquiry shocked and surprised Claren- tine so much, that staring at her at first without be- ing able to answer it, she at length, in a hesitating and inarticulate voice, said — " Happened, my dear madam ? — Nothing — what ■should have happened ?" " Something no less extraordinary than terrible, if I may believe your countenance," repliedMrs. Den- bigh. " Have you had any letters ? any unexpected bad news ?" Too artless and candid long to elude such friendly urgency, Clarentine's bursting heart now found a re- lief, no less seasonable than consolatory, in pouring out all its grief into the sympathising and indulgent bosom of Mrs. Denbigh. It was so long since she had pined, vainly pined, for some one in whom, un- checked by prudence or apprehension, she might se- curely confide, that soothed and melted by the gen- tleness and compassion that was shewn her, every irascible passion by which she had been torn sub- sided, and gave place to a gratitude the most fer- vent, and a sensibility the most unrestrained. When her first emotion, however, had abated, and the tears she had so abundantly shed ceased to flow, Mrs. Denbigh taking her hand, and addressing her in a tone of mixed pleasantry and seriousness, said — " Tender and affectionate as I have long believed 85 you, my dearest Clarentine, I never suspected till this moment, that, to so much softness, your litde heart united so much pride ; you must curb it, my young friend, by every effort in your power, or greatly do I fear, that of the most benevolent and candid of hu- man beings, it will teach you to become the mostun^ just and illiberal.-' " Dearest Madam — ^' exclaimed Clarentine, with dismay. " Nay, be not very seriously frightened," resumed Mrs. Denbigh, smiling ; "■ what I said was more meant as a caution than a reproach. , 1 would not hurt, I would not designedly offend you for the world, yet, my best Clarentine, is there not something a lit- tle petulant and hasty in the anger with which you permit yourself to speak of Mrs. Hertford ? Allow- ing that her regard for Captain Somerset clashes with your own ; that she has unadvisedly given him to understand more of your partiality in his favour than you could wish ; still, however, I see not in either case any reason so severely to blame her. Let ijour own susceptibility be an apology for hers ; and as for the disclosure she made to him, imprudent as it was, its motives at least could only be such as to do honoun to her heart." Clarentine, with a look of incredulity, and a smile of involuntary contempt, v/ould here have interrupt- ed her, but Mrs. Denbigh not allowing her time, somewhat gravely added — " Young as you are, my dear Miss Delmington, these deep-rooted prejudices should not be cherish- ed ; since if such is now their force, when time adds experience to natural distrust, what will be their bit- terness ? Oh, let not then a tendency so unamiable sully the guileless and youthful, simplicity of your character ! Be not only virtuous and deserving in yourself, but cultivate with care that generous and Vol. II. H 86 noble disposition, .which should lead all whose own hearts are jiure to believe well of others." Clarentine could !;)ear no more — '* Oh, Madam," cried she with earnestness, " what dreadful prepossession are you yourself conceiving against me 1 Am I, indeed, so lost to all sense of candour and justice as you describe? Do I appear so very illiberal, so very seveVe as to require such a reproof? Oh, believe me, the unfavourable opinion I have thus unguardedly betrayed of Mrs. Hertford is not the mere result of sudden resentment, or ground- less conjecture ! I intended inviolably to have kept secret all I had ever heard concerning her, but you now compel me in my own vindication to speak openly." She then very circumstantially repeated every par- ticular which had tended to infuse suspicion into her mind whilst at Sidmouth ; spoke of the mysterious hints that Eltham had there dropped relating to her, the caution her earnest interrogations had drawn from him, the strange and significant looks with which he had always talked of her ; and lastly, of the free and contemptuous style in which he had allowed himself personally to address her. Mrs. Denbigh listened to all these circumstances with an air of surprise which plainly shewed, that had she depended less implicitly upon the veracity of the relator, she would have been tempted wholly to discredit them. " The greatest proof of art ^"^ it has been said, " Z5 to conceal art^' and this Mrs. Hertford had so suc- cessfully accomplished, that far from having ever appeared in Mrs. Denbigh's eyes as a woman of de- sign or contrivance, she had rather imposed herself upon her as one of volatility and thoughtlessness, who to a great deal of levity added quick parts, but nei- ther depth enough to be capable of regular stratagem, or steadiness sufHcient to apply her understanding 87 to purposes ot" utility. What the qualities of her heart might be, she had found no opportunity of se- riously investigating : concluding them, however, to be rather benevolent than otherwise, from her con- stant readiness to oblige and her never-failing good- humour, she had always seen her without distrust, aftd conversed with her without reserve. These being her sentiments, when Clarentine pau- ed, Mrs. Denbigh frankly avowed them, adding. " Upon the opinion of such a man as Mr. Eltham, ^areless and inconsiderate as without a doubt he is, I can consequently put little reliance. Mrs. Hertford, though now I believe she is seriously attached, once appeared to me, and formerly unquestionably, was, a giddy, vain coquette, fond of admiration, and de- lighting in new conquests : Mr. Eltham himself possessed much the same turn of mind ; and these two, playing upon each other, with identical weapons, may very probably have had some little difference, the gentleman's proud stomach knows not, even yet, how to digest. If he really thought ker more to hlame than himself^ there was nothing dishonourable in his guardedly cautioning you against her ; yet, from an adviser so ill qualified for tlie.task, I would not. Miss Delmington, too readily in»blbe injui-ious jurmises." *' Well, Madam," cried Clarentine, " further than this, I will say no more upon the subject ; it is equally impossible for me either to fir^et or not to feel ; I am convinced, therefore, that as long as I re- main in Mrs. Hertford's vicinity, thinking of her as I 7nust think, and suffering by her as I 77iuH suffer, I can enjoy no ease or comfort. Where I can go 1 know not, but from Mr. Lenham's house, during the present posture of affairs, I am determined to re move !" " Are you serious," cried Mrs. Denbigh, with much astonishment. " I never was more so," an- swered Clarentine firmly. Mrs. Denbigh after this was silent a few minutes ; but at length, addressing Clarentine again, and with the utmost kindness, she said^ — *' 1[ such, my dearest Miss Delmington, is your decided resolution, far from attempting to dissuade you from it, I will rather endeavour to make my own advantage of it. You say, that, at this moment you have fixed upon no particular place to repair to : I am myself, in a very short time, going to Bath : but as motives of friendship alone will lead me there, and I expect not to visit or be visited by more than one family in the place, its being so early or so late (I know not which to call it) in the season, is to me perfectly immaterial : will it be so, however, to you, my young friend, and can you voluntarily consent to shut yourself up, perhaps during six weeks, with so peevish an old moraliser ?" "Ah, Madam!" cried the delighted Clarentine — " if I could but flatter myself you vrere indeed serious in making me such a proposal ! but it cannot be : it would render me too happy, and happiness and I seem destined to be great strangers !" Mrs. Denbigh, much affected by the purport of this .speech, after assuring her in the most friendly terms she had never made an offer she so sincerely wished might be accepted, attempted to reanimate her courage and cheer her hopes. *^ It is too soon for you yet, my Clarentine," said she, " to admit lasting sorrow or despondence into your breast. The world is all before you, a world into which you have hitherto scarcely taken more than a stolen glance : many, many are the comforts, the felicities I hope, it has still in reserve for you. Your own merit will make you friends ; your inde- pendence ensure you respect ; and the goodness and purity of your heart bestow upon you internal appro- bation. With such prospects, such health, such in- 89 nocence and youth, \vhy, then, my dearest giri, wliy give way to this vain and thankless dejection !'' " Ah ! believe me, Madam," answered Clarentine, the tears once more glistening in her eyes — *' I have not given way to it ! No day has nov/ ever passed for many weeks that I have not strained every nerve to appear cheerful, even when my heart has been most oppressed ; and though often wishing to indulge re- flection, often wishing to be alone, I have yet always forced myself into occupation or society." *' In both," said Mrs. Denbigh, " you were wise and right : persevere, then, my gentle friend, in the same course, and doubt not but that, in a very short time, your virtuous efforts will be prosperous and successful." She then reverted to the subject of their meditated journey, which she told her it had been her design to begin in about a week, but that, if it was her wish, and Mr. Lenham made no opposition to it, she would accelerate her departure without hesitation, and pre- pare every thing in order to set out in three days. Clarentine was very grateful for this second offer, and very desirous, on finding it really put Mrs. Den- bigh to no serious inconvenience, of accepting it. They mutually agreed, therefore, to be ready early on the following Tuesday : and then Clarentine, all thanks and acknowledgments, and Mrs. Denbigh all benevolent kindness, separated for the evening. CHAPTER XV. CLARENTINE hearing at the door, when she returned home, that Captain Somerset was already gone, immediately went into the parlour publicly to announce— wishing to avoid any private conversation with Mr. Lenham upon th* subject — her new plan. H 2 90 The surprise with which she was heard by every- body, but particularly the anxious and stedfast look with which, v/hilst blushing and speaking very quick, she was surveyed the whole time by Mr. Lenham, embarrassed her extremely. She answered all their questions with the most tremulous agitation j seemed even afraid of raising her eyes, and sought with so much eagerness, but so little art, to change the con- versation, that not only her venerable guardian, but Miss Barclay, who sat attentively examining her, was likewise filled with suspicion and amazement. Her mother, however, neither so deeply interested as the one, or so distrustful as the other, spoke of the scheme, after her first unmeaning wonder was over, with her accustomed facetious unconcern. " Good ivits jump^ I've heard say," cried she, *' it was but this very afternoon Captain Somerset talked of going a journey too ; not so long a one though as vours, Miss Clary." Clarentine, who could not, now, hear the mere name of Somerset without confusion, trusted not her voice to make any enquiries, but in her own despite felt extremely anxious to learn whither, and for what purpose he was going. Mrs. Barclay went on — " He's obliged, he says, to set out for Windsor to- morrow, and does'n't think he can be back in less than a week : so that, what with the loss of Mr. El- tham, your journey, Mrs. Denbigh's, and his, we shall be left here quite solitary." " O, Miss Delmington has been in such charming spirits lately," cried Miss Barclay, ironically, " that we shall certainly be terribly dull without her !" '' I am not conscious," said Clarentine, vexed at this speech, and unusually eager to defend herself, " that I have been at all in worse spirits of late than common." *♦ No !" exclaimed Miss Barclay — " Why, Lord, 91 you have looked, as my mother says, so like a poor h(£pQth of syrup for above a month, that. I could al- most — Clarentine, dreadfully afraid she would to her, as well as to Eltham, coarsely blunder out some rude insinuation concerning her being in love, now hastily- interrupted her, and with a forced smile, said — " If I really zvas low-spirited, Miss Baixlay, no- thing would be so little likely to cure me as animaxi- verting upon it." " No, to be sure," cried the mother, " it only makes bad worse. For my part, when I've got the blue devils, I had as leave any body should beat mc, as take notice of it." The conversation then, to Clarentine's great relief, took a different turn, and nothing further was said concerning her journey that night. Infinitely as her reason, and still more her pride, taught her to rejoice at her approaching departure, her heart, as the time drew near, sunk at -the prospect of thus voluntarily banishing herself from Somerset. " Ah ! little did I imagine," cried she, '•'■ a few weeks since, that a separation like this, could ever have been planned and sought by 7ne ! My whole soul recoils at the idea even now : and to go thus sud- denly, thus coldly too — quit the place whilst he is ab- sent — take no leave of him ! Good Heaven, is it /that can do all this ? — Is itSof7ie7'$et I can thus part from ? Cruel, cruel Mrs. Hertford ! — Why do you compel me to such a task ? — But for you I might still have remained here — still at times even have conversed with and heard him, as in former days, call me his dear, his gentle Clarentine ! — His Clarentine ? — Oh, never, never shall I be his !" It was on the night preceding her journey, that v/hilst, unfitted for general conversation, she was shut p in her own apartment, indulging these melancho- 92 ly reflections, some one, who by the gentleness of the sound she concluded to be Mr. Lenham, knocked un- expectedly at her door. She immediately arose from before the fire opposite which she had been sitting, and trying to assume a look of serenity, if not of cheerfulness, moved to the door, and opening it, was beginning, " My dear Sir, is it" — but drawing back the next minute, with an air of aflright and conster- nation, walked hastily again to the chimney, followed by — Somerset. Both, during a short, but to Clarentine most em- barrassing interval, stood utterly silent. At length, Somerset, having shut the door, once more ap- proached her, and with a look of hurry and anxiety said " Am I, Miss Delmington, to believe the strange report I have just heard? Are you, indeed, going from Hampstead?" Clarentine, supporting herself with one hand against the table, and trembling as much from sur- prise at his unexpected appearance, as from confusion at the almost reproachful seriousness of his enquiry, answered in a low voice — " Yes, Sir." " And did you mean, is it possible you could mean thus abruptly to set out without leaving one line to explain to me the motives of your departure, or, at least, to tell me when I might flatter myself you would return ?" - Clarentine, dreadfully abashed, hung her head, and with difficulty repressed her tears, but attempted not to answer him. *' To speak of times past^'' resumed Somerset, af- ter vainly waiting some minutes for a reply, '' chang- ed as they are, would to me be too painful ; else would I ask Miss Delmington, whether the design she had iww meditated, would theyi have appeared to her generous and friendly ? — We quit not even a casual acquaintance without some preparation, some 93 previous information of our intention ; — yet your brother, your friend, your Somerset, you could quit, and not even deign, concerned and amazed as you knew he must be on hearing of your departure, to leave him a verbal farewel !" " Oh Heaven !" exclaimed Clarentine, overcome by this severe but just reproof, and throwing herself in a chair — '' say no more, Mr. Somerset, I conjure ou ! — I am sorry — I am ashamed — I meant not — '* She could proceed no further, but bursting into ucars, started up, and ran with precipitation into the adjoining room. Her absence however, was of but short duration : the instant she was alone, reproaching herself for hav- ing flown from him so inconsiderately, she endea- voured to command her feelings, and return to him again with an apology somewhat more distinct, and a countenance somewhat more composed. Almost hopeless of her granting him such an indal- gence, Somerset, who, shocked and afflkted at the emotion he had caused, stood in an attitude of thoughtfulness and depression near the fire, hastily advanced to meet her as she entered, and in a soften- ed voice, said — ''• Can you forgive me, my dearest Miss Delming- ton, tell me, can you pardon the unlicensed freedom with which I permitted myself to address you ?— I am grieved, you know not how deeply grieved, to have occasioned you one moment's uneasiness." Clarentine required not this gentleness in order tt) feel pacified and appeased. Fully sensible how de- servedly she must have appeared to merit his re- proaches, they had not awakened in her mind one re- sentful thought, or excited in her any sentiments but of shame and regret. She therefore very readily ac- corded the pardon that was so humbly solicited, and then almost as humbly pleaded for her own. *' Oh !" cried Somerset, with earnestness, " speak 94 not such a word, I beseech you ; let the forgiveness be as wholly yours as the offence was mine." Then drawing a chair next her, after she had again taken her seat, he added — " I have but one apology to offer, Miss Delming- ton, for the force of the expressions I so much lament having used. The suddenness with which the intel- ligence of your intended journey was announced to me threw me off my guard, and bereft me of all re- flection : my heart was full, I scarce knew what I said, and might have proceeded yet longer in the same strain, had not the tears I with so much cruelty drew from you, checked and recovered me to a sense of the impropriety! was committing." " Well, weiy said Clarentine, faintly smiling, " the storm is now blown over, and we will think of it no more." " Ah, believe me," cried he, " I shall not the sooner cease to think of it with self-reproach for this un- merited gentleness and mercy !" They were then for some time both silent. Cla- rentine, however, affecting a gaiety she did not feel, at length said — " Tour anger being past, Mr. Somerset, it is nov^ my turn to reprove. Why, if xve ought not even to quit a caaual acquaintance rvithout some preparation^ did you set off so suddenly for Windsor, and leave me to hear of it only by accident?" <' Ah, dearest Miss Delmington," replied Somer- set, in a tone of dejection, — " I had not the vanity to suppose my absence could be to you any other than a matter of utter insignificance : the case, with regard to what I felt for your departure, is different ; I never did, nor ever xvish to conceal, that in every thing which relates to you, I take the liveliest and most fervent interest !" " Is it possible," thought Clarentine, extremely af- fected by this speech, " he could thus seriously re 95 proach me for my indifFerence if he Anew or believed I love him ?" — This doubt gave her courage to look upy and with a sweetness and sensibility to which he had long been disused, she said — " Why, Mr. Somerset, will you talk to me thus ? Why believe me so unjust and ungrateful? Have I ever rgiven you reason to suspect I really felt so little esteem and regard for you, as not to be sensibly hurt by any thing that on your part bore the appear- ance of slight or neglect ?" The wonder, doubt, and joy this speech occasioned Somerset, held him some minutes speechless and im- moveable. At length, however, recovering his voice, and eagerly snatching her hand, he pressed it with a look of gratitude and transport to hi3 lips, and ear- nestly exclaimed — " Ever dear, ever lovely and generous Clarentine ! what relief to my heart has not this kindness — this unhoped for kindness given ! — Oh, tell me," added he, after a short pause — " tell me — Why should you undertake this hateful journey ? — Why must I, the first moment you have restored yourself to me again, and for so long, lose you ?" Clarentine, surprised, yet involuntarily softened by this tenderness, sighed deeply, but made no answer, and Somerset still detaining her hand, which indeed she had not courage to attempt drawing from him, thus went on — " Could I divine, my beloved Clarentine, what passes in that gentle bosom, and penetrate its secret sorrows, with what earnest anxiety would I endea- vour to alleviate them ! You acknowledge," added he,^ " some regard, some esteem for me, but when, when will those sentiments animate again into confi- dence and affection ? You cannot have a grief in which, mysterious as you are, I do not participate ; say then sweetest Clarentine ! tell me why that bitter sjgh and these involuntary tears ?" 96 Clarentine had no time, even if she had had words to answer him, for just then the voice of young Blandford was heard at the door, calling out — *' Captain Somerset, Mrs. Hertford is below, and wants to speak with you." All Clarentine's late pride of heart returned at ^hese words ; all that softness into which his own soothings and gentleness had melted her, disappear- ed, and snatching her hand abruptly from him, with glowing cheeks, and a look of haste and trepidation, she said — " Oh, go, go, Mr. Somerset ! Why did you stay so long ? Why suffer me to detain you ?" And then, without raising her eyes to his, or giving him time to stop her, with yet more speed than before, she rushed out of the closet into her ow^n room, and locked the door after her. In a few minutes she heard him, though slowly, go down stairs, after which all was silent, except that, at intervals, she fancied she could distinguish the mur- mur of voices in the parlour, as the maid (for it was now near supper-time) opened the door and passed backwards and forwards ; what was said, howev^er, it was impossible to discover, nor would her agitation have allowed her to listen even had she wished it. Disturbed and restless, she traversed her room with uneasy steps, sometimes softening at the recollection of Somerset's late kindness ; at others, indignanth^ shrinking either from the idea of sharing his divided heart with Mrs. Hertford, or being m-ade solely the dupe of his dissembled affection. That he wished her to believe he loved her, she could have no doubt ; yet when she reflected upon his marked attention to another woman the whole time ; upon the sort of public influence and power that woman seemed authorised to exercise over him ; how to reconcile such a wish to his accustomed high sense of honour, she knew not. " Was it piti/ only, he designed to shew me r" cried she — " or does he 97 mean all these warm professions to pass merely for the effusions of brotherly fondness ? — Why does his conduct so strangely militate against his language ?— and why, when his looks are all tenderness, are his actions all duplicity ? Is there either rectitude or principle in seeking to conciliate my affection after his own is gone ? Oh Somerset, when shall I ever understand your inexplicable character ! when know whether with justice to bestow upon you contempt or esteem !" Whilst these thoughts were darting in rapid suc- cession through her mind, the parlour door was again opened, and she heard Mrs. Hertford's voice in the passage. Desirous of assuring herself whether she was really going, Clarentine went back to her closet, and the moon being by this time risen, presently saw her attended by Somerset, who walked by her side, and her own servant who followed her at some dis- tance, cross the little court before the house, and when she reached the gate that opened to the road, stop at it during a considerable interval, in apparent- ly earnest conversation. Clarentine's heart beat quick at this sight, and as if rooted to the spot, she stood mournfully observing them, till at length Mrs. Hertford, after shaking hands with Somerset, walked on with the servant, leaving him to go back alone to the house ; this he did immediately, but as he advanced looking up at Clarentine's window, she hastily retreated, and soon after heard him shut the passage door, and rt^turn tc the parlour.' The maid now came to let her know supper was ready ; she declin^-d going down, however, upon pre- tence she had not yet finished her packing, an excuse that in some measure was tru^j, as she had still all her drawing materials to collect; but desired h< r to tell Mr. Lenham, that as she was to go very early in the morning, she should be extremely glad to speak Vol. II. I 98 to him before he went to bed, either in his study or her own room ; Mrs. and Miss Barclay she meant to take leave of after they came up stairs, but Somerset she was determined if possible to avoid seeing again. Accordingly, when at his usual hour Somerset, despairing of another interview, departed, Mr. Len- ham hastened to her. His adieus were affectionate, and even in the present depressed state of her spirits, touching ; he carefully forbore, however, speaking upon any subject he thought likely to distress her, or asking one question concerning the motives of her journey; but having remitted to her the quarterly payment that about this time was near becoming due, tenderly embraced and blessed her, and immediate- ly retired. The Barclays soon after both came to her like- wise ; their parting compliments she found no diffi- culty in supporting with perfect composure ; they were short and blunt, though on the mother's part, at least, by no means unfriendly : and having staid with her a decent time, asked a great number of useless questions, and scarcely attended to one answer, they wished her good night, and walked out with the same unconcerned aspect they had entered. Early the following morning, Mrs. Denbigh in a hired post-chaise was at the door, and Clarentine getting into it, they immediately proceeded forward, and sleeping one night upon the road, arrived the next evening at Bath. CHAPTER XVII. MRS. DENBIGH and her fair companion having slept the first night of her arrival at the York Hotel, 99 rallied forth the next morning to secure lodgings as near as they could to the South Parade, where Mrs. Westbury, the friend who Mrs. Denbigh was pur- posely come to visit, resided. To these they imme- diately removed, and as soOn as their early dinner was over, Slaving previously sent a note to announce their intention, walked to that lady's house. In the parlour which Clarentine was shev/n into, whilst Mrs. Denbigh went up to her friend's room, sat a young man apparently about two-and-twenty years old, lounging back in his chair before the fire with a pamphlet in one hand and a tooth-pick (of which he seemed to be making furious use) in the other. His face and figure when he rose up and looked round, 'Appeared to Clarentine, though both for a man, rather finical and diminutive, extremely regular and handsome, but the ridiculous aft'ectatioii of negligence that accompanied every motion, and the fixed yet vacant stare with which, scarcely conde- scending to bow as she entered, he surveyed her, at first amazed, and afterwards embarrassed her so much, that, declining the chair which the servant had placed for her near the fire, she w alked gravely to the window, and without speaking, stood iiefore it with her back to him, pretending to be engaged in observ- ing what was passing in the street. This quiet indifference appeared to stimulate the young man's curiosity, and pique his vanity ; for in a very short time, kicking away the chair which stood betv/een them in preference to taking the trouble of walking round it, he sauntered up to her with his hands in his coat pockets, and resting one shoulder against the window frame, and half yawning as he spoke, said in a languid, drawling voice — " Are 3'ou come to make any stay in this place, Ma'am ?" Clarentine, infinitely better pleased to enter into any sort of conversation than to be merely consi 100 dered as an object to be stared at, very readily an- swered — . *^ " I believe, Sir, we shall be here about a month " Ma'Jm'?"^''^ ^ ''^^''^''''' ''^^^'''* Denbigh's, I presume, " No, Sir, I have not that happiness." TVT^.^^'^f, ^"^"^ ^ ^"^^^^ extensive acquaintance at Bath, Ma'am r" ' " I^never was here before, Sir." " You come from London I think. Ma'am ^ Is it not very thin just now ?" " "^^V^^^ ' ^^ appeared to me extremely crowded '' "At this time of the year London crowded ?— Tlie public places filled .?" " Oh, as to the public places I kno\v nothing about them, I spoke merely of the streets." " The streets r" repeated the coxcomb, a little con- temptuously, " And did those bright eyes vouchsafe to bestow a glance upon any of the vulgar objects in the streets .?" ** " My bright eyes," replied Qarentine, determined to petrify him at once by the discovery of her insig- nificance, " were so nearly upon a level with those ob- jects, as I always was on foot when in London, that sometimes as well as my ears, they were extremely mconvenienced by them." The gende youth, as she expected, looked utterly confounded at this disgraceful confession, and for some seconds remained profoundly silent; at length, however, addressing her again, though with yet less ceremony than at first — " Mrs. Denbigh, I think. Ma'am," said he, " lives m a very confined circle when in town .? Do you re- side with her ?" " No, Sir ; only for the present." " Your usual residence is in the city then, per- haps V Clarentine laughed, but again her only answer was 101 a simple negative ; after which, walking very com- posedly to the fire,, and sitting down, she took up the pamphlet he had been reading, and begun turn- ing it over without seeming to recollect he was m the room. , Mrs. Denbigh now in a short time come down, and on seeing the voung man, who, with a glass held to his eye, was 'still lolling against the wmdow m a friendly and familiar voice, called out— " Well, John, how do you do ?— Your mother has been telling me you have'left college and are come to live entirely at hom^ : I am glad to hear it on her account, for confined as she is, it must be a great pleasure to her to have you in the same house. John, appearing by no means delighted at the old- fashioned freedom of this address, made a cold bow, but did not speak. Mrs. Denbigh continued — " I hope," said she, sitting down by Clarentme, " you have entertained this young lady very gallant- ly during my absence ?" ' John smiled a little superciliously, and still re- mained silent. " Why, friend," cried Mrs. Denbigh, surveymg him, at length, with some surprise, " are you grown too fine to speak to an old acquaintance ? You look immensely solemn." Then turning to Clarentine, who had thrown aside her book and sat internally enjoying poor John's con» sternation — ^' What do these arch and comic eyes of yours mean ?" cried she. " Have you and our young stu- dent been falling out ?" " O dear, not at all, madam !" answered Clarentine, unable any longer to refrain laughing. " No two people were ever more peaceable than we have been: I don't think we have spoken one word this last half hour !" 12 102 _^" That's being very peaceable indeed !" said Mrs Denbigh drd)-. " But pray John, how comefa th.s about? You were wont to be extremely assi- tMonT'" ''' '"""" '' "°^ "^^^ ^-y '-S- the " °^f Ma'am," cried he, simpering and lookine extremely s> ly, "why ask me such a question" No! body cares less about fashions than I do." Then putting up h,s glass and moving indolently towards the door, " n go and see," added he, « whether rny mother is coming down." "eiuer ray " No, don't trouble yourself," cried Mrs. Den- oigh " Miss Delmington and i are to drink teaTa her dressing-room, and when she. is ready she will send us word. ^ "Miss Delmington !" repeated the young man mfngton""' °' ^"""P""' " '= '''^' ^ady''nam'e De?-' it before ? '"'^"''^ ^'''' °^"'^'Sh, " did you ever hear " O, very often ; I had the pleasure of beinjr ex- tremely well acquainted at Oxford with a young Baronet of that name-Sir Edgar Delmington. Pray, Ma am," to Clarentine, "is he any relation of yours P 1 cs, oir. " Your brother ?" '' No, Sir — my cousin." Assuming an air of infinitely more politeness than / ifj^^ T\''' (though her London walks still choked him a little) he now said— " Upon my word, Ma'am, I am extremely happy to have had the honour of seeing you. I hope Sir -Kdgar IS very well f—Is he in town ?" " He is in Devonshire, I believe. Sir," "How could you suppose," cried Mrs. Denbigh ^that an acquaintance of yours, Mr. Westbury a Baronet, would disgrace himself (not being in par- 103 liament) by appearing in London before the birth- day ?" Just then, very fortunately, for Mr. Westbury was extremely at a loss what to say, the door opened, and they were all summonid to the dressing-roonn. In the mother of this trivial young man, Clarentine found a woman, who, though an habitual valetudina- rian, feeble and infirm, was yet pleasing, sensible, and well-bred. She had been the tried and approved friend of Mrs. Denbigh for more than thirty-years ; was blessed with an excellent temper and many es- timable virtues. To these recommendations, how- ever, she unfortunately added one predominant foi- ble, which in conversation, at least, often obscured them so much, that it required some candour and yet more judgment to discriminate l^pr real merit though so thick a mist. She was, what has often been de- scribed but can never be too often held up to deri- sion, a female pedant, a female politician, a smatter- er in philosophy, a perpetual controvertist ! In her youth she had been, though not a dec ided beauty, an exceeding pretty woman, which advantage, rein- forced by the powerful addition of gold, had gained her many admirers, much delicate flattery, and a great deal of obsequious attention. Time advanced, wrinkles appeared, and lovers disappeared ! — The love, Mrs. Westbury found it no difficult matter to dispense with ; but the adulation, the general ho- mage, the constant deference — how was she to dis- pense with these ? At once to sink into insigni- ficance, after having been so long held up as an ob- ject of universal admiration, was not to be borne ? Mrs. Westbury, therefore, in the failure of youth and beauty, had recourse to study — set up for a female critic, and though on a different score, was still by many fools admired, and by many wise men, for the sake of peace, applauded. 104 With the acuteness and excellent understanding which Mrs. Denbigh possessed, it is not to be ima- gined she was the last to discover all these little fail- ings. Kind-hearted, however, and affectionate, such errors in a friend who, to counterbalance them, had so many good qualities, she easily pardoned, and en- deavoured as much as possible either wholly to over- look, or unmoved to smile at. Upon follies utterly unmixed with malignancy, yet too deeply rooted by age to be eradicated, she thought it as ungenerous to exercise severity, as it was hopeless to attempt experimental reform. Learned dissertations or political arguments apart, Mrs. Westbury could be equally rational and enter- taining ; and in that light, during the whole evening, did she appear to her youthful visitor. Books were sometimes talked of, but only such as she imagined were within Clarentine's reach, in which number she justly concluded that poems, moral essays, and his- tory might be comprised. Upon Revolutions^ Go- vermnent^ ^c. ^c. fortunately for her fair auditor, she wholly forbore touching, well knowing that Mrs. Denbigh (though far more ably qualified to discourse upon such subjects than herself) had an insuperable aversion to them, and wisely suspecting, that with the modest Clarentine it might be the same. Young Westbury meanwhile had, as soon as any thing like regular conversation began, disappeared, leaving Clarentine infinitely more disgusted by the species of servility he had displayed subsequent to his discovery of her relationship to a Baronet^ than she had by any means thought it worth her while to be by all his previous impertinence. 105 CHAPTER XVIIL CLARENTINE had been about three days at Bath, when from her friend Sophia, to whom she had written before she left Hampstead to inform her of her intended journey, she received the followingletter. Delmmgton-House, Dec. Miss Delmington — " Why, what an unconscion- able, merciless little monopolist of human hearts you are, Clarentine ! A few days since arrived at Welwyn park, with as love-lorn and almost as wo-begone a face as ever my pgor brother Edgar had, your second cast-off^ George Eltham Esq. — The man really made me give a nervous start (I am very nervous^ you know) the instant I beheld him ; nor for a long while, guess, try, puzzle and perplex myself as I would, could I possibly make out what was the matter with him. " Surely, thought I, that solemn phiz must portend something direful and strange ! Whom have I seen that ever looked at all like him ? Why, Edgar. And why did Edgar look like him ? Because he was crossed hi love. Ergo, this man must be crossed in love ! Now, the next thing is to find out xvho has done this wicked deed." Accordingly, I set about this arduous undertaking (suspecting you a little, all the time) ; and after four failures, four days shuffling and evasion on his part, and four days fruitless exami- nation and cross-examination on mine., at length drew or rather dragg-ed irom him his horrifying secret. " You shall hear, for your edification and instruc- tion in a similar case, how I finally succeeded. " I went yesterday morning (I should certainly not have gone but for the above mentioned purpose, for the day was piercing cold,) to call upon Lady Julia, who is now at her father's. Never having lived in the great world, you know, I am as regardless of 106 all ceremony as the wild inhabitant of an African de- sert :-~0, you may truly call 7ne an unadulterated Child of Nature ! Well, in at the little park gate, to which she gave us a key last year, I went (march- ing up the solemn avenue is my aversion), and from thence making the best of my way, through the glass door in the breakfast room, entered the house. All was profoundly silent in that quarter of the mansion ; and so, after taking an inventory of the many super- numerary moveables I beheld— such as a fierce cock- ed-hat of Mr. Eltham's upon one chair ; a muff and cloak of Lady Julia's upon another ; an odious squall- ing parrot, I presume, of her Ladyship's likewise ; a stately gold-headed cane of my Lord's, &c. &c I nioved on, and without any interruption safely reach- ed the dressing-room. " I entered— and lo ! the first object I beheld was Mr. Eltham in person, alone and reading. " Times are dismally changed ;" thought I, " this poor man never used to sit thus quietly dosing over a book !" "I curtsied with my accustomed profundity— he bowed with unaccustomed gravity ; after which we both sat down. — " A very cold day, Sir," said I. " Yes, extremely 'so," answered he. " Have you been out this morning ?" " A little way with Lady Julia, but she found the wind high, and turned back in less than ten minutes." "Upon this I started up, and flying to the glass, « Ah, true," cried I, " the wind is high, and ought to have given me a bright colour ; and so it has, I protest ! Look at me, Mr. Eltham, I reallv am ex- tremely like my cousin Clarentine to day : don't you think so ?" " Mr. Eltham forced a smile, and said, " why should you not be as well contented to look like ifour- selfy'' -^ ** Belle deinaude .'" cried I <•<• Why because, you «-^ AjlU. A^t^ « "^^^ knif)W, Clarentine has alw; tri^~x.inm always been reckoned the beauty of the family ; nay, if I am not mistaken, you thought her so as well as every body else. Pray," added I, delighted to observe he seemed to sit un- easy, ^nd fidgetted upon his chair--" pray, for I for- get what you said about it, have you seen her very lately?" " No," answered he, rising and strolling to the win- dow with an air of affected indifference, " not very lately." " Umph !" — thought I — " that's a Jib, I have no doubt !" " I said nothing more, however, but moving to the piano forte, stood turning over some of the music that lay scattered upon it, and among the rest, spying the stale old song— " WhvsiLDale an sat down to the instrument, and with all the expres- sion I could give it, began playing and singing it, I may almost say at him, rather than to him. " Very indecorous, Clarentine, was it not ? " The poor man could not stand this — but ap- proaching me with a look somewhat angry and tre- mendous — " Miss Sophia," cried he — (he seems to hate the name of Delmington, and never utters it when he can avoid it), " these significant looks, your choice of this song, the strange and repeated questions you have asked me — what do they all mean ? What is it you wish me to understand by them ?" " I thought it best to be honest with him at once, and therefore answered very calmly — '' Only that I am extremely curious, Mr. Eltham, and have an earnest desire to know, when the case becomes my own, how it will be most proper and well-bred to dis- card an unsuccessful lover. I am sure you can give me this information, for your whole aspect tells that 108 you have been discarded, and by one, I suspect, who would do it in the civilest way in the world — Miss Clarentine Delmington." " Civil !" repeated he, turning from me and walk- ing about the room in great agitation, " Civil ! — No ; she was imperious, inhuman !" " So far, so good," again thought I — " my conjec- tures were right, I find !" " Then assuming an air of mingled surprise and concern, " Clarentine deserve such an imputation ?" cried I — " Impossible ! She is gentleness and good- ness itself, and I am persuaded, Mr. Eltham, to you could never behave with impropriety." " Is this astonishment real or affected ?" cried he^ sitting down near the instrument and looking distrust- fully at me — " Has she not written to you ? Has she not exulted in her scorn, her haughtiness, her inflex- ibility !" " You amaze me !" cried I, " what should lead you to entertain such an opinion t She has written to me, it is true, and to my mother also ; but not one word is there in mtf letter, at least, that in the most distant degree relates to you." " This seemed to wound his pride more than all the rest. Again he arose, and renewing his quarter- deck walk^ said in a hurried, indignant manner, '' I believe, indeed, I need have been under no appre- hension that she would take the trouble to record her cruelty ! she murders unconsciously — and when she has stabbed the deepest, turns from her victim with the cool unconcern" — "Of a ^z^/c/i^ry"— interrupted I — "was not that what you meant ?" " Angry as he was, he seemed half tempted to smile ; but repressing the unseemly propensity, and moving towards the door. — " I will leave you, Ma- dam," cried he, " raillery upon this subject is more than I can bear !" and was then actually going ; but 109 calling him back, and apologising very seriously for my unseasonable flippancy, I at length softened him, and he ended rby no means sorry, I believe, to have an auditor so willing to listen to him) by recounting to me his whole disastrous story. " I wish, dear Clarentine, you could have seen with what a half-pitying, half-laughing countenance I heard him. It was impossible to attend to his im- passioned, and sometimes almost frantic exclama- tions and complaints, without being ready to expire : I contrived, however, to conceal my risibility upon the whole, pretty well ; but I sincerely hope I shall never sit in such misery again. " I believe we were together almost half an hour after he had disburdened his o^er-fraiight hearty before Lady Julia came to us. Never was relief more welcome ! for though his history was concluded, his ravings still continued, and the whole expression of his countenance often assumed such a fierce and savage cast, that seriously speaking, I was more than once so heartily frightened, I would have given the world to have been out of the room ! " Lady Julia, who had been sitting with her father in the library, and did not know I was in the house till she saw me, pressed me extremel}' to sta\'^^ din- ner, but that, not having leave given me, I declined. After sitting with her therefore as long as I dared, I went home escorted by Mr. Eltham, who spent the remainder of the day with us. " We parted at night exceeding good friends ; but if he concludes the horrible fright he put me into is to pass unrevenged, he is vronderfuUy mistaken ! It was impossible to do any thing yesterday but appear to pity him ; the next time he comes, however, he will find me a little less compassionate. Are people tQ be put into fear of their lives by every impatient mortified lover, who wears willow instead of mvrtle ? Vol. II. K 110 " I wanted extremely to make him talk to me, as we were walking home, of Mr. Somerset, but could not manage it at all. Why this shyness ? Does he apprehend in him a rival ? Clear up this point to me, dear girl, I intreat ; and write to me a detailed ac- count of every wise man or every fool you see, ever}'^ place you go to, every creature you visit, every plea- sure or disappointment you meet with ! " Adieu, my own Clarentine. Your poor deserted little Emma, who is the only one in the house, by the way, that knows of my having written this mad let- ter, desires her tenderest love to you, and a thousand grateful thanks for the charming books you so kind- ly sent her. " Adieu again, " Sophia Delmington." The effect this letter had upon Clarentine was much the same with that Mr. Eltham's own conduct had always had : it made her congratulate herself upon the fortunate independence which had given her the power of rejecting him ; and led her very natu- rally to conclude a passion so indignant and so resent- ful was not of a nature to be very lasting in itself, or very tender to its object. " Such a man," cried she, " fiery and impetuous — always exacting implicit submission to his own will, or bursting out even with those he ought either to re- spect on account of their age or sex, into transports of irrational fury — Oh, such a man was not destined to make me happy ! Far, far different is my idea of the disposition of him I would choose as a partner through life. To all the spirit and gallantry of youth and courage, I would join humanity and gentleness ; to an open intelligent countenance, an expression of benevolence and sensibility ; to strong natural parts, the most unpresuming diffidence ; and to a temper at Ill once generous and placable, a cheerful gaiety equa^ Iv distinct from turbulence or sadness. Ah ! wht-re, added she, " can such an object be found? or where, when found, is the reasonable hope that should lead me to expect it will ever be my lot to be so aUiecl . There is, there can be upon earth but one such cha- racter, and he who possesses it, is, I doubt not, lost to me forever!" . , i • «.:,,^ Thus indulging the fond admiration and plair^ue regret she had so often determined to suppress, Cla- rentine, who had hoped so much from time and change of scene, as the hours, days and w-eeks pass- ed away, found that the depression of her spirits rather augmented than decreased, and tne sadness o her heart took from her all power of exertion and all capacity of enjoyment. No longer surroundea by observers Vhom she feared, those quick and irritable feelings which had, of late, upon the slightest occa- sion, alarmed her pride and awakened her distrust, were succeeded by a quiet dejection, a settled but un- murmering gentle sorrow, that penetrated Mrs. Uen- bigh with compassion. She saw that her young friend, pale, languid and oppressed, lost her health as well as her animation, and that although too rational to de- cline partaking in the amusements that were propo- sed to her, she yet found no real amusement or reliet in any thing. The discovery gave her pam in pro- portion to the warmth and sincerity of the truly matci- nal regard she had conceived for her ; and deter- mining, if possible, to counteract this dangerous turn of mind, she seized the first opportunity that pre- sented itself of attempting by friendly admonitions and remonstrances to reason her into greater hrm- ness. . , " My Clarentine," said she, one morning as they were sitting at breakfast, " I have a proposal to make to you : this place, contrary to my expectuuons, seems to disagree with you so much, that I cannot 112 bear to be the occasion of prolonging your stay atitf and therefore next week we will go back to town." " Dear Madam," cried Clarentine, alarmed at the very mention of such a scheme, " why so? Happy or gay I expect not to be any where; but here, at ieast, 1 am tranquil ; and as for my health, that can cleriye nothmg but benefit from the air and situa- lion But how IS It then," resumed Mrs. Denbigh, that acknowledging thus readily the value of tran- quilhty you yet suffer yourself to droop and pine with so little fortitude and so little strength of mind ? Clarentine, such weakness is unworthy of you? it renders useless every acquirement you possess, and every good quality with which you are gifted : de- generates what was once female softness, blended with spirit and sound sense, into inertion and su- pmeness ; and will, I fear, in time degrade you into a mere languishing enervated love-sick girl? Is your case, my young friend, a new one ? Oh no '—How many notable and contented old women there now are, attending duly to the domestic occupations of their household, scolding their maids, whipping their children, snarling at their husbands, and sitting in judgment upon their neighbours, who once, like you * were sunk in listlessness and apathy, and thought no pleasure equal to that of elegantly indulging their ro- mantle despondence !" " Ah, my dear Madam," cried Clarentine, who had listened to this speech with alternate blushes and smiles, "is mine an affection that deserves thus to be severely censured ? You well know it has not been the mere work of an idle imagination, seeking anx- iously, yet selecting unworthily, some object of fan- cied perfection on whom to bestow unqualified and enthusiastic admiration ; on the contrary, it is a sen- timent that stole upon me gradually and impercep- tibly ; which, though never intentionally cherished, grew with my growth and strengthened with my strength. I was yet a mere child, helpless and de- pendant, when William Somerset, at an age when most boys fly from a nursery with disdain and hor- ror, was my watchful friend and only companion : we parted long e'er I knew the value of such an as- sociate, but not before, in remembrance of his inva- riable kindness, my heart was attached to him with the warmest gratitude. In my second asylum I found another friend, and companions whom I soon learnt to love with nearly equal tenderness : here, however, the affection I met with in return, though cordial, I believe, and sincere, had neither the stability, the gentleness, or the indulgence of that I had been used to from him. Edgar, who was the one at that time oftenest with me, was frequently unjust and petulant ; a moment of unintentional neglect, a childish or hasty reproach, would irritate and offend him so deeply, that perhaps during a whole day he would neither speak to me, nor listen to any excuse ; his sisters, en- grossed by other objects, of course, had no leisure to bestow upon me that degree of attention to which, unfortunately, I had been accustomed ; so that often in the midst of playfellows of my own age, in the midst of society and cheerfuhu^s, I felt desolate and unhappy." " A fatal tendency to encourage causeless repin- ings, seems to have been your bane through life," said Mrs. Denbigh, here interrupirfg her — " but go on with your little history, and forgive this abrupt comment." " Rather call it my apolog-y^^'' said Clarentine, smi- ling, " I have not much more, however, to add ; nor ought the recapitulation of our own feelings to take up a great deal of time. Is there one amongst us, who, minutely describing every past emotion of their mind, could not make up, as I have done, a tedious dissertation upon nothing ?" K2 114 " Well, well, go on, I tell you," cried Mrs. Den- bigh, with a sort of impatient pleasantry, *' go on, and whatever compliments I can spare shall come af- terwards." Clarentine laughed at this speech, and thus conti- nued — " Several years now passed, during which, except by letter, my friendly William and I had no inter- course. At length he came down into Devonshire upon a visit in our neighbourhood, and stopped, he said, at his fat he r^s^ but I doubt not at his oxvn insti- gation, to visit and enquire after his former little in- mate. An accident not worth relating now, prevent- ed my seeing him till after he had quitted the house ; he found me fainting and senseless upon the road as he was driving through the village, and in that con- dition carried me back in his carriage to Delmington House. Never, oh, never can I forget, child as I yet was, the look of tenderness and solicitude with which, when recovering, I beheld him standing mo- tionless before me ! It was a look that penetrated my very soul, and would alone have taught me to love him, had not his previous behaviour already dispo- sed and his subsequent conduct compelled me to it ! Again, however, we parted, but not for the length of time we had been separated before ; he returned to us more kind, more animated, more generously in- terested in all that related to me than I had even dared hope to find him, and during the two days he staid, treated me with a conciliating sweetness, a more than fraternal partiality, that left upon me, at his depar- ture, a melancholy and regret I scarce knew how to conquer." " Well," cried Mrs. Denbigh, again breaking in upon Clarentine's little narrative, " all this, I confess, was flattering and insinuating ; but, my dearest girl, have you not in Sir Edgar Delmington, in a young man whose passions must necessarily be so much 115 more ungovernable than your own, an example of fortitude and self-command that ought to stimulate you to emulation ? He too, I have been told, knew you from your infancy, was brought up in the same house with you, and cherished for years the most fervent and animated affection for you. Duty, reason, and honour, however, enabled him to conquer this early and habitual prepossession : and in a case exactly parallel to your own, made of him, at once, a hero and a philosopher ! Are ijour feelings, though less tumultuous, more insurmountable ? Let it not be thought ! Exert your courage, dissipate your mind, trv every experiment that the ingenuity of woman can devise, to prove that an opinion so humiliating is groundless and erroneous !" u The counsel," said Clarentine sighing, "is good, and I will endeavour — I have endeavoured, always to act as if in pursuance of its dictates : yet, my dear- est M'ldam, similar as the two cases may appear, there is, however, a wide difference between the part that Edgar had to perform, and that which is now assigned to me. From the first moment he dis- covered to me his unauthorised partiality, I dealt openly and frankly with him ; and readily, gladly as I would have promised him my friendship, denied him all claim to mv love. Have /been treated with equal candour? Oh no ! Such ungenerous, unremit- ting pains have been taken to lead me into a belief I was beloved, that, till my own observation, and yet more convincingly the explicit avowal of Mrs. Hert- ford, told me I deceived myself, every action, every look, seemed calculated to infuse into me a positive certainty of Somerset's attachment! Ah! wonder not then, that whilst entertaining so flattering an il- lusion, the high opinion I had of his honour and in- tegrity lulled all vigilance to sleep, and left me nei- ther power or inclination to resist the grateful affec- tion I felt for him ! I beheld him as a man who from 116 infancy had loved me— who seemed to have no de- sire so earnest as that of promoting my happiness— as him, in short, by whom it was finally destined to be assured !" At that moment their conversation was interrupt- ed by the entrance of Mrs. Denbigh's servant who brought Clarentine a letter ; it came by the post, and was directed in Somerset's hand. She received it With a degree of agitation she scarce knew how to conceal ; and laying it down upon the table by her as soon as they were again left by themselves, said to Mrs. Denbigh — ^ ^'* The writing is Somerset's— I almost fear to open " Give it me then," said that lady, smiling— "and It It IS veri/ treacherous and vejy tender, I will burn It without suffering you to read it." Clarentine hesitated a moment, and then holding It out to her, " Ah ! why does he write to me at all ?'' cried she : "There— take it, dear madam, andif I can help It, I will not even rvh/i to know its contents." " Come, come," cried Mrs. Denbigh, " I begin to have some hopes of you ! This is the most rational thing you have done yet." She then opened the let- ter, and began reading to herself; while Clarentine, with her eyes fixed upon her face, sat earnestly ob- serving her, b} turns reproaching and applauding her- self for the facility with which she had resigned a pri- vilege which would once have been so precious to her. When Mrs. Denbigh had ceased reading, " Here, my dear," said she, " take back your letter ; it con- tains a request which no one but vourself can answer." "A request !" repeated Clarentine, starting and blushing ; " To me ! Of .vhat nature ? What request ?" " Nay, nay, my love," resumed Mrs. Denbigh very calmly, " don't put yourself into such tremors ; the favour he asks is as trifling as his style is simple and proper ; see what he says yourself, therefore." 117 Clarentine held out an unsteady hand for the let- ter, and read as follows : MISS DELMINGTON. CliflTord-street, December. " I am unwilling to suppose, my dearest Miss Del- mington, that our parting, though abrupt, was there- fore unfriendly ; and as you prohibited not my wri- ting, take the liberty to address to you a little petition it will give me the utmost pleasure to hear you re- ceive with indulgence. " Since you left town I have been down a few days in Northamptonshire, and purpose going thither again during Christmas week with a party of friends, two of whom mean afterwards to spend a short time at Bath. I dare not presume to accompany them ! but if, when they have left me, I should direct my wandering course to Delmington House, would you, my gentle friend, whilst I am there, favour me with a letter of introduction to your amiable Madame d'Arzele ? I have the most earnest desire to see and become acquainted with her ; and under whose aus- pices could I hope for a more indulgent reception, than under those of her young and lovely benefac- tress ? " You appeared at your departure indisposed, dis- pirited, and, I fear, unhappy : write to me I beseech you ; tell me you are better ; that the air of Bath agrees with you ; and that, although compelled to suffer by your absence, I have nothing to apprehend for your health ! " Present my best respects to Mrs. Denbigh : she is my friend, and I hope will assist in determining you to grant my request. " Adieu, and may all happiness attend you ! " William Somerset." 118 The extreme surprise with which Cl^rentine peru- sed this letter kept her silent some minutes after she had concluded it ; at length, however, pointing to these words, / purpose going thither again during Christmas xveek^ she said, with a look of incredulity^ " Do you believe. Madam, ht- has really such an in- tention ? Do you believe he will again, and for so long, quit Mrs. Hertford ?" " I always believed every thing that a man of ho- nour told me," answered Mrs. Denbigh, "except, in- deed, his vows of perpetual constancy ! What such repeated journeyings can mean, however, I acknow- ledge it is beyond my power of comprehension to find out." " Thus," cried Clarentine, sighing, " has he ever been — mysterious and unfathomable. Oh! that this painful suspense were over ! that at length, he was actually married, and all doubt of his attachment for ever at an end !" "'A decisive way, it must be owned, of termina- ting suspense !" cried Mrs. Denbigh : " I did not think, Clarentine, you had resolution to form so sen- sible a wish. But let me hear what you design to do concerning the letter he requests you to wri^e for him. Shall you send it ?" * " Undoubtedly j and the more readily, as I know it will give infinite pleasure to my excellent Madame d'Arzele to see him. On his first arrival he was the constant theme of all my letters to her, and she has often expressed great concern at the idea it was so unlikely she should ever be acquainted with him." Mrs. Denbigh now arose, and asked her whether she would accompany her on a morning visit to Mrs. Westbury. " No, my dear Madam, not to-day, if you please : my mind is unusually occupied and perplexed, and just now I can think of nothing but this strange let- ter." 119 " Well then," said Mrs. Denbigh, " I will leave you, for the present, to your own contemplations ; but in the evening I am determined you shall go to the assembly — and what is more," added she, '^ you shall dance with your little favourite, Johnny Westbury, if he will have you!" Clarentine, not believing this speech had any real meaning, made no opposition to the plan, and soon after Mrs. Denbigh left her. CHAPTER XIX. AT dinner, when Mrs. Denbigh returned — "Well, Clarentine," cried she, " I have made a party for you to-night, and Johnny has half promised, provided a certain Hon. Miss Somebody, sister to a certain Lord Somebody, does not make her appearance in the ball- room till after the two first dances are over, he will do himself the honour to go down them with you." " He is really too obliging !" said Clarentine, laughing ; " but, dear Madam, is it true you have made this party ?" " Yes, perfectly true. I met Mrs. and Miss Man- ners at Mrs. Westbury's, and they have promised to call for you at the proper hour. Before you go, however, I desire I may see you with all your j)lumes and decorations : I am a prodigious judge of modern dress you knov/, and therefore, lest Johnny should criticise your taste, come and consult mine previous to his seeing you." " I am afraid," said Clarentine, smiling, " a dress so simple as that I shall wear will neither be worth your attention. Madam, or Mr. Westbury's." " Well, no matter how simple it is, if, according to Johnny's opinion, it is hut fashionable : he would expire at the idea of dancing with you, if you had 120 one grain too little or too much powder in your hair, or half a straw's-breadth too long or too short a waist !" " I will endeavour then," said Clarentine, " to be as correct in all these matters as I can; but really I know so little of the business of a toilet that I am afraid I shall succeed very ill at last." " In that case," cried Mrs. Denbigh, " I don't know what people can do better than persuade them-' selves to like you for your originality. A young wo- man in these days, who is a novice in the science of dress, is so extraordinary a creature, that she ought, I think, to be admired as a curiosity." They then separated, and Clarentine went to pre- pare for the evening. At the hour appointed the two ladies, who had been engaged to go with her, and whom she had se- veral times seen before at Mrs. Westbury's, called for her in their own carriage, and they all proceeded to the assembly-room. This was the first evening that Clarentine had ever been in public, except, since she had been at Bath, once or twice with Mrs. Denbigh at the play. The confusion she expected, however, to experience, the extreme fulness of the place effectually prevented : the last week had brought down an incredible num- ber of people, all of whom appeared to be concentra- ted in that one spot : consequently, no particular par- ty could be more conspicuous than another, but each seemed to have met there for the sole purpose of be- ing crowded and incommoded. ^' Oh, how much preferable," thought Clarentine, " were our little social and cheerful balls at Delming- ton, to this dull, yet bustling scene !" Soon after a tall, fine young man, whose counte- nance was animated and pleasing, and who had for some^time been engaged in observing them as they slowly advanced, contrived to approach Miss Man- ners, who had hold of Clarentine's arm, and said to 121 her in a low voice, yet loud enough to be overheard, " will you introduce me, Louisa ?" " Yes, certainly :" — then turning to Clarentine — " allow me, my dear Miss Delmington," added she, '^ to present my brother to you." — Clarentine curtsied, and Mr. Manners very po- litely addressing her, said — " I fear. Miss Delming- ton, that any application to you for the honour of your hand this evening, would now come too late : you are probably engaged already?" " Indeed," replied Clarentine, half-laughing, " I scarcely know whether I am or not." " And who," said Mr. Manners, with some sur- prise, " is the extraordinary personage that can leave you in doubt upon such a subject?" Clarentine then related to him the sort of half en- gagement Mrs. Denbigh had formed for her in the morning ; upon which, Mr. Manners brightening up, said with a smile — " I may then safely. Madam, re- new my solicitation ; since I can assure you it is not ten minutes ago, that I heard Mr. Westbury engage one of Lady A 's daughters, who had just en- tered with her mother." Clarentine laughed, and by no means sorry to be released from such a partner, very readily gave her hand to Mr. Manners, and suffered him to lead her towards the dancers. Whilst they stood up, it was impossible to engage in any regular conversation ; but after a long and confused dance, Mr. Manners seeing her look ex- tremely fatigued, exerted himself to pnjcure for her a seat, and conducting her to it, hast :ned to bring l-er some refreshment, and then placed himself 'nexi her during the remainder of tht; evening. His conversation was lively and agreeable, and Clarentine found herself so well disposed to like him, that her spirits were insensibly revived by his atten- VoL. IL ' L *;5i:\ 122 tion, and her answers to all his gay remarks were made with a cheerfulness nearly equal to his own. After some general discourse of this animated kind, addressing her somewhat more seriously — " May I ask Miss Delmington," said he, " what stay she de- signs making in this place ?" " It is very probable," answered Clarentine, " I may yet be here three weeks." — " And may I tell her," resumed he, " what the interested motive was that led me to venture such an enquiry ?" " If you please — certainly." " Why then," said he, " I wished to know whether at my return from a short visit I am upon the point of making in Northamptonshire, I might flatter my- self with the hope of still finding you here." " In Northamptonshire ?" repeated Clarentine, with a faint blush — " And whom, may I ask, are you ac- quainted with in Northamptonshire ?" " One of the oldest friends I have. Captain So- merset, has a seat in that county," answered Mr. Manners. An involuntary half-sigh escaped Clarentine at these words, and an air of thoughtfulness once more overspreading her but lately re-animated countenance, she sunk into a total, but unconscious silence. Mr. Manners sat some minutes unsuspectedly ob- serving her ; at length, however, addressing her again, ♦' I believe," said he, ** I have the pleasure, in Miss Delmington, to see a relation and a ward of Captain Somerset's ?" Clarentine only bowed. " You have seen him lately, I presume?" *' No, Sir, not not very lately." " But, however, you can assist me in the solution of a mystery I am very anxious to have explained. Pray what has he been doing with himself all this winter ? Is he, as has been reported, upon the point 123 of marriage ; and to his fair mistress, is it, his friends must attribute his long silence and neglect?" Clarentine's varying colour during this speech al- most betrayed her ; and the hesitating and embar- rassed manner in which she answered him, yet more strongly denoted her emotion — '' I believe—I fancy," said she, « he is going— he will be soon married." " And what sort of a woman is the lady he has se- lected ? You doubtless know her ?" " Yes a little." " Is she agreeable." Scarcely sensible of what she w^as saying, " I can't tell," answered the distressed'Clarentine. Mr. Manners laughed — " Upon my word," cried he, " such a reply is not much calculated to give a very high opinion of the lady's merit ! I should be sorry to suppose, however, added he, more gravely, *' that Mr. Somerset had made a choice that was unworthy of him." Clarentine upon this, recovering greater presence of mind, compelled herself to say, though in a low and almost inarticulate voice — " I meant no reflec- tion. Sir, upon the lady, believe me ; but, as I told you, knowing very little of her, I am ill qualified to decide upon her character. She is generally thought, I believe, remarkably agreeable." " Well," cried Mr. Manners — " I shall certainly endeavour to see her when next I go to town. There is no man in whose happiness I take a greater inter- est than in Somerset's ; and no man, I am convinced, who deserves happiness more." This conversation was here to Clarentine's infi- nite relief, interrupted by young Westbury, who, after leading his partner to a seat with the most ob- sequious respect, negligently approached Clarentine, and said — " So, you have not danced at all, Ma'am, this evening?" 124 ''Not, at least, with the cruel Mr. Westtfury," said Mr. Manners, with a laugh — . " Cruel !" repeated he — " No, upon honour, that was'n't it ! The fact is, I have been engaged, — that is conditionally engaged, to Miss A , these three days." " And the condition was, I suppose, Mr. West- bury," said Clarentine, archly, <'<- that you were to re- nounce her, if an Earl's or a Duke's daughter claim- ed you in her stead !" " I am sorry to hear such a partial account of your gallantry, Westbury ;" cried Mr. Manners, shaking his head — " a poor miserable commoner like me will be afraid to speak to you soon !" " Pshaw, pshaw, what nonsense you talk !" cried the young coxcomb, taking out his glass and begin- ning very critically to examine a party of ladies w^ho just then were passing. " Pray, Mr. Westbury," said Clarentine, selecting from amongst them one who was remarkably prett}', " what do you think of that young lady ?" " She's very well — but her hair is not turned up high enough' — you don't see enough of the contour of her throat." " Well, but what do you say to the one who is walking next her ?" " Her waist is hideous — and those long sleeves are entirely out." '' A little beyond, however," said Mr. Manners, '^ is a lady whose very elbows are bare — what's your opinion of her ?" " She's better — something better ; but there's no ease, no baid in her form : she's as upright as a dart — there's nothing picturesque about her !" Mr. Manners, now casting his eyes tow ards a poor girl who was extremely deformed, and yet dressed in the most extravagant height of the ton — " What do you say to that fair nymph, Westbury ?" cried he— ^^ she has bend enough, I hope f" 125 4 " Why she's not amiss, really, considering ; there's taste in the arrangement of her dress, and upon the whole she- positively looks like a girl of fashion." Here Mr. Manners and Clarentine, unable to pre- serve their gravity any longer, both burst at the same moment into a laugh, which offended the poor con- noisseur so much, that completely discomfited, he turned upon his heel and abruptly walked away. " Was there ever so absurd a puppy !" at length exclaimed Mr. Manners, following him with a con- temptuous look as he crossed the room — " I've no patience with the vain idiot !'* *" " d, bless me," cried Clarentine, " do not bestow upon the poor little man such serious indignation ! I think he is extremely entertaining ; and to me his. character is quite new." " In what enviable retreat have you then lived," said Mr. Manners, " where these pfests of society gained no admittance ?" " I have spent " answered she, laughing, " the greatest part of my life in Devonshire." " O, happy Devonshire ! and thrice happy all its favoured inhabitants ! Must / despair of ever ob- taining a refuge there ? If you have any pity. Miss Delmington, take me in your suite when next \^oii go." " What, and deprive the world of so willing an admonisher! I would not be accessary to such an evil on any account." During this speech, Clarentine, in taking her hand- kerchief out of her pocket, let drop without perceiv- ing it a little silver trinket, which, as it fell, ringing slightly upon the ground, caught Mr. Manners's at- tention, and made him stoop to take it up. He look- ed at it very attentively a minute before he either spoke, or she knew what he held j and then present- ing it to her with a smile — '* Why," said he, " where Certainty should reside, L 2 126 is Hop€ substituted in her place ? Why does Miss Delmington carry about with her an emblem she should resign to those children of nature who are less partially endowed ?" Clarentine, who at first had not attended to what he offered her, now casting her eyes upon it, colour- ed violently, and eagerly seizing it, put it back into her pocket ; at the same moment rising, and hastily saying—- " Can you imagine where your sister is ?" " No," answered he following her, " but if you will lend me your anchor to rest my hopes upon du- ring the toilsome search, I will go in pursuit of her.'* " I would not wish," said Clarentine, attempting to laugh, ^" you should rest them upon so feeble a support." " To obtain hope from you then, any way but by surprise, is, I perceive, impossible ! Pray, did Cap- tain Somerset teach you the importance of that inva- luable symbol? — was it his gift?" " No, no," cried Clarentine, turning away from his arch enquiring eyes in great confusion, " it was not indeed !" Mr. Manners, seeing her look really disconcerted, had too much good-nature to pursue the subject ; but whenever, in the course of the evening, her eyes again met his, she beheld in them an expression of comic significance, that abashed her so much, she was obliged immediately to look another way. When they were going, and he was leading her to the carriage — " Captain Somerset, I presume," said he, " in his province of guardian, has the happiness of corre- sponding with you, and therefore. Miss Delmington, if I request to be made the bearer of any letter you may wish to send him, I hope I shall not be thought impertinent." Clarentine, endeavouring to speak with steadiness, said— 127 " When, Sir, do you set out ?" '^ On Thursday morning, and, if I have your per- mission, to-morrow I will do myself the honour to call for your despatches." They were now at the coach door, and Clarentine had only time to bow her thanks, before, having hand- ed her in, he wished her good night, and returned to the ball-room. Provoked at her own unguarded behaviour, and extremely mortified at the idea of having given rise to any strange conjectures in Mr. Manners, Claren- tine was absent and silent the whole way home, and spent a night of unusual restlessness and disturbance. Half dreading, yet half wishing to see him the next day, she determined, by the assumed tranqiyllity with which she meant to listen to all he could say, even concerning Somerset, to dispel every suspicion he might entertain, and prevent every remark he might promulgate. The anchor^ (Lady Julia's former gift) which had unfortunately excited so many embarrass- ing reflections, she immediately locked up, almost tempted (diminished in her eyes as at this time was its illusive value) to throw it wholly away. She had hitherto kept it expressly in remembrance of Somer- set ; but so earnestly did she now wish to drive him from her thoughts, that even this trifling memorial she thought it almost wrong to preserve. At breakfast the next morning, when Mrs. Den- bigh asked for an account of her ball, she faithfully related to her all that had passed, and prepared her for the visitor they were to expect : after which, sit- ting down to write to Somerset, she shewed her, when she had concluded it, the following cold and formal epistle. 128 CAPT. SOMERSET. Bath, December, " Dear Sir — The letter you wish to deliver to Madame d'Arzele in my name, I shall be happy to send whenever, or wherever you please. It will give her pleasure, I am sure, to become known to you. " Accept my best thanks for your obliging en- quiries concerning my health, which is, I flatter my- self, considerably amended, and, I doubt not^ will soon be perfectly restored. " Mrs. Denbigh joins with me in hoping your in- tended excursion will prove agreeable, and desires her best compliments. " I remain, dear Sir, with great regard, your obli- ged and grateful humble servant. " Clarentine Delmington." "This letter is what you may call short and not sweet!" cried Mrs. Denbigh, when she had read it; '' he will think, I fear, it accords very ill with the kindness and cordiality of his own." " I hope and believe," said Clarentine, affecting to speak wjth indifference, "he will think very little a- bout it." '- There are cases," said Mrs. Denbigh, " when young ladies may be permitted to tell lies with impu- nity, and this is one ; or else, Clarentine, you may depend upon it I should not suffer that false, I hope^ to pass uncensured." " Ah, my dear madam," said Clarentine, half smiling, " there would be no end of censuring me up- on that score, for, of late, mv whole life has been a her •* Some part or other of every body's life must be such," said Mrs. Denbigh ; " mine was a lie, when 129 at sixteen an old grandmother I had carried me down into Northumberland, and obliged me to tell her I liked it! My poor husband's was a lie, when he first married me, and thought it needful to say he loved me !" Here Clarentine, who sat directing Somerset's let- ter at the table, discontinued her employment, and looking up with an air of innocent surprise, said — " And did he not love you, then ?" *' No, not all, the first six months." " Good Heaven, how terrible ! How could you marry -him ?" " In the first place, he told his lie so well, I did not know he had this dislike to me ; and in the next, my father chose him for me, and left me no negative voice." " Well, but," said Clarentine, eager to hear the result of this frightful beginning, " did he love you better afterwards. Madam ? Were you happy ?" " Yes, very. I never suspected his affection had been dissembled till he told me so himself, and by that time it was become real, though by no means, I must acknowledge, romantic T"* " And yet," said Clarentine, *< without a little ro- mance in youth what is life good for?" " Every rational enjoyment that sober common sense ought to render valuable to us." " But, my dearest Mrs. Denbigh, do you expect me to have already acquired a sufficient portion of this sober common sense to think so ?" " No, I know you have not ; bat a little longer re- sidence with me, I flatter myself, will give it to you. There are certain words with which sentimentalists by profession nourish their folly, that I have totally effaced from my vocabulary, and never permit even my friends to use if I can help it. Delicacy (such false delicacy as they mean) is one ; refinement is another ; sensibility is a third ; susceptibility (the 130 most odious of all) is a fourth ; enthusiasm is a fifth ; and lastlycomes that ideal bugbear constancy, a term of which no woman ought to know the mean- ing till after she is either married, or positively en- gaged." Before Clarentine had time to answer this speech, the door opened, and Mr. Manners was announced. Clarentine introduced him to Mrs. Denbigh, who, though she well knew the ladies of his family, had never before seen him, and then they all took their seats. After some general conversation, casting his eyes towards the letter which still lay upon the table — " May I flatter myself," said he, " that Miss Del- mi ngton has been so good as to remember the tacit promise she gave me last night? Are the credentials I am to carry to my friend ready?" Clarentine, thanking him for condescending to be- come her courier, put the letter into his hands. " Ah, Madam," cried he, *' call not that a conde- scension which is only a proof of my self-interested- ness. Captain Somerset and I have been separated so long, that to secure myself as cordial a reception as in former times I was always assured of obtaining, I thought it necessary to apply for the most precious introductory presentation I could procure." " If that was your view," said Clarentine, " it would have been more politic to have addressed yourself elsewhere : you had better, I believe, give me my letter again, for I much doubt its having the efficacious power you expect." " No, no. Sir," cried Mrs. Denbigh, " keep it now you have it : a long absent friend requires not such potent recommendation as one whom we have seen more lately, and therefore content yourself this time with being the bearer of a mere letter of civility, and reserve for your next meeting the letter of ten- derness." 131 " I am sorry you give me reason to suppose," cried he, *' both will not come from the same hand." "Nay, that is ungrateful!" said Mrs. Denbigh, " when instead of one we are proving to you that you have txvo strings to your bow, ought you to ex- press such a regret V " My regret. Madam," answered he, " may find some apology in its disinterestedness — it is wholly for my friend." " Are you not afraid, Mr. Manners," said Claren- tine smiling, " that your partial gallantry will incur the same reproach Mr. Westbury's received from you last night ? You know nothing of the lady at whose expense you have now been pleased to com- pliment me, and can by no means be certain your re- gret is at all justifiable." " I have two infallible guides upon this subject," cried he ; " my ears upon one occasion, and my eyes whenever I have the honour of seeing you." " Your ears ?" '* Yes ; did they not last night inform me, that JMiss Delmington, whose countenance alone bears testimony to her natural candour, thought the lady in question too insignificant an object to merit any place in her remembrance ? Such a discovery may surely well justify my regret !" " 1 was not aware," said Clarentine, deeply blush- ing, " of the severe inference you would draw from so momentary a fit of absence !" Mr. Manners was beginning some very eager teply, when the entrance of his sister, and pre- sently after of Mr. Westbury, put an end to the sub-^ JLCt. As the morning, though cold, was clear and fine. Miss Manners, at the end of a short visit, proposed to Clarentine taking a walk with her to the Upper Crescent ; to tiiis she very readily consented, and 132 escorted by the two gentlemen, they immediately set Mr. Manners kept by her side daring the whole way, alternately amusing her by the aptness and vivacity of his general remarks, and embarrassing ner by the archness of his distant allusions to the subjects she had before so gladly flown from : the pertect good breeding, however, with which he thus mgeniously tormented her, and yet more, the indul- gence which his acknowledged intimacy with Somer- set unconsciously disposed her to shew him, prevent- ed the possibility of her being seriously displeased, and kept her in good humour with him' till the mo- ment they parted. In their way home, Miss Manners addressing Clarentine in a low voice, whilst Mr. Westbury's head was turned aside, said, " I must call this morn- ing at Mrs. Westbury's— my mother desired it ; but do pray go with me." " If you wish it," answered Clarentine in the same tone, " I will certainly ; but what makes you ask it so earnestly ?" " O dear, there is nothing so formidable to me as a forenoon visit there : she is always surrounded by snarling politicians, and solemn authors, and musty dictionaries, and huge folios, and up to her very chin m learning and philosophy ; and I know nothing m the world of all this." '<■ But do you expect me," said Clarentine, laugh- ing, "to be any wiser?" " O no, youVe a good unaffected creature, I know ; but if you go with me, I shall, at least, have some- body to talk to, whom I can understand and be un- derstood by." " If that is your reason," said Clarentine, " I am wholly at your command." They were now arrived at Mrs. Westbury's door, 133 and still attended by Mr. Manners (young Westbury made his bow as soon as he found where they were going), gave in their names, and were shewn up to that lady's dressing room. Clarentine, as she entered, beheld xht female critic sitting before a large table, covered with books, pam- phlets, papers, pens and ink. Stretched out at his ease, in an arm-chair near the fire, sat a portly and learned professor of mathematics, who, by the start he gave as they walked in, evidently betrayed either how deeply the sublimity of his contemplations, or the soundness of his stolen nap^ had previously ab- sorbed every faculty. Intently poring over some profoundly scientific Greek manuscript^ which, in honour of his own learning, he had brought with him in his pocket, at one end of the table, opposite Mrs. Westbury, sat a little withered, smirking man, in a rusty black coat, who, at the same time that he as- pired to the reputation of a savant^ likewise aimed at that of a man of gallantry, and was the ladies most obsequious and devoted slave. Lastly, balancing himself as he stood near the window, was a short, thick, clumsy-looking man, with enormous black eye-brows, frowning over a newspaper, and mutter- ing execrations to himself every word he read.^ " And which," said Clarentine, addressing Miss Manners in a low voice, after they had I)een some time seated, " which of these three dignifies himself with the title of philosopher .^" " Why, I believe, they every one pretend to it in some degree; but xh^ i^hWoso^hcr par excellence is that gentleman," — looking towards him who frown- ed at the window. " I should sooner'" said Clarentine, " have taken him, by his employment, for ^politician,'''' " O, he's both : .politics and philosophy always go together now." Vol. II. M 134 " His countenance, at least, does not denote him to be of the sect of laughing- philosophers,'''' " Bless me, no ; he never laughs but in scorn,'''' Here their attention was attracted by the litde man in black, who looking up with a set smile, and wav- ing his hand as he spoke, said " Madam, I must beg leave to assure you, that in this short disquisition there is more exquisite elo- quence, more wonderful profundity, more accurate criticism, than in any performance of the kind I have met with for many years." "Whose writings does it criticise, Mr. Lea V en- quired Mrs. Westbury. Mr. Lea, with extreme emphasis, uttered some hard Greek name, and was then proceeding thus — " It can be no new information to a lady of your uni- versal erudition, that this incomparable author" when the philosophical politician abruptly interrupt- ing him called out " These d — mn — d news-writers ! How they do make my blood boil ! Here's a fellow now," striking the back of his fingers against the paper, " who for half a crown a day will say and unsay the same con- founded lie six times in one week ! — By all that's good. Madam," turning to Mrs. Westbury, "it as- tonishes me to think you can take in such a flagitious compilation of falsehood and infamy." <' Is this a specimen of that gentleman's philoso- phy?'''' asked Clarentine in a low voice, turning to Miss Manners. '' Hush, hush ! — Hear the lady's answer." " My dear Sir," cried Mrs. Westbury, " you are partial, you are prejudiced : that's one of the best papers that comes out." " Ay, Ay !" said the learned Doctor, " let me see it then ; I want to change mine, and I don't know what other to order," 135 « Take my word for it, Doctor," said Mrs. West- bury, '<- you can't choose a better than that. But now, Mr. Lea, let me hear a little more about your Greek manuscript : what author did you say." " Madam," interrupted Mr. Lea, the same invari- able smile still adorning his countenance, " with your permission, before these young ladies," looking particularly at Clarentine, " we will have recourse to some more compatible subject. Doubtless to the minds of uninitiated youth these remote and inap- plicable themes must be too intricate and unperspr- cuous to afford them aiiy portion of mental recrea- tion : and. Madam, I make it a point, as pertinently as I can, to administer to all such conversation as i surmise best accords with the age, sex, and capacity^ of my auditors." " O, mercy," said Miss Manners, in a whisper to Clarentine, " there will be no enduring that man if he once takes it into his head to address his pedantic jargon to us ? Do pray, let's be off." Clarentine, as little disposed to prolong the visit as her friend, instantly arose to go ; and Mr. Man- ners starting up at the same moment, they all three took their leave and hastened away. When they were in the street, ^' Good Heaven," exclaimed Clarentine, " how different a woman Mrs. Westbury always appeared to me before ! I never saw her so surrounded till this morning." " O, she has a few lucid intervals," cried Miss Manners, "and before Mrs. Denbigh, particularly, I've known her very rational : however, we did not stay half long enough to behold her in her real per- fection ; I dare say she and the politician will have a furious quarrel before they part !" " But now," said Clarentine, " will you have the goodness to explain to me your reasons for dubbing him a philosopher .^" 136 "Why, in the first place, he publicly professes Atheism, and in the next — " ^ " O, that's enough !" interrupted Clarentine ; " I desire to hear no more either of him or his princi- ples." "Well, then, let's change the subject; what do you do with yourself this evening?" " I shall stay at home to rest after the raking of last night." " O, that's a horrid plan ! You had better go to the play with us." " 3Iuch better," said Mr- . Manners. " No, indeed," cried Clarentine, " if I had »o ,other objection, I could not. bear to leave Mrs. Den- bigh two evenings alone." " O, Mrs. Denbigh shall be of the party !" cried Miss Manners — " I'll run up and ask her directly." And then, without giving Clarentine time to stop her, being just arrived at the door and finding it open, she rushed into the house and up stairs in a moment, M**. Manners and Clarentine both following her. Before they reached the dining-room, Mrs. Den- bigh, unwilling to neglect any opportunity of dissi- pating her young friend's thoughts, had already given the consent that was required of her ; and soon after, rejoicing in their success, the brother and sister went home to dress for dinner. »' Why, my dearest Madam," cried Clarentine, when thev were gone, " what a life you are determi- ned I shall lead !" " Any thing, my good child, rather than suffer you, in your present disposition of mind, to stay at home and think,'''* " Do you, then, imagine it is impossible to think in a play-house ?" " Oh, perverse people will do what they ought not to do, every where, but I am persuaded less effec- tually in a play-house than shut up in their own apart- 137 ment. Go up and dress therefore, and let me hear no more delicate objections.'''' Clarentine half provoked, yet unable to refrain laughing, was forced to obey, and at night when she returned, almost against her own will, was compelled to acknowledge she had really been entertained. CHAPTER XX. NEAR a week now passed on much in the same dissipated manner ; at the end of which, Clarentine, wholly unused to such a way of life, was laid up with a severe cold, and obliged, for several days, to con- fine herself entirely to her own room. During this penitential retreat, she received a se- cond letter from Sophia. MISS DELMINGTON. Delmlngton-House, January. " I do not know what you may be in ijour part of the world, but here we have been exceedingly gay. Lord Welwyn gave a very elegant ball two nights ago, at which we were all present, and I had the ho- nour of dancing, if not the whole evening, at least the greatest part of it, with your friend Mr. Eltham. Since he has made me (or rather since I made my- self) his confidant, it is astonishing what progress I seem to have made in his good graces : he never has a sorrow or a joy that he does not come to impart to me ; and as both very often arise from causes equally frivolous, he has now got so used to being laughed at, that he not only bears it with stoical patience, but sometimes even catches the infection. The grim as- pect he brought down with him is considerably im- proved within this last fortnight, and 1 have great rea- M2 138 ► w"" ?^?fu'- '^/' ^ '^"^^ "^^^ ^" ^ «h<^^^ ti«^e restore to al his former gay and youthful gallantry. "My dearest mother, who knows nothing of his motives for thus distinguishing and attending me, and I dare say, concludes very often he is insidi- ously laying siege to her daughter's heart, when, in tact, he is only bewailing the cruelty of her niece, looks extremely grave upon these occasions, and yes- terday, without assigning any reason for it, had'the inhumanity to forbid my ever going alone to Wel- wyn Park while he stays there ! Dear Madam, you need be under no alarm !~he thinks of me only as of a good-humoured rattle, whose conversation serves a little to beguile the horrors of disappointment, and lighten the burden of his heavy woes ' He must be certain / have no design, and I believe we may all be equally certain he has none. "My brother Edgar is now at home, and pays very assiduous court to his pretty mistress, who, by the way, really grows prettier and prettier every hour •— - aye, Clarentine, and so do I too, if I am to believe honest friend Eltham !--He was yesterday (and yet I had been up dancing half the night before) com- phmenting me upon this subject, in a style of court- liness It would, I am persuaded, have done your heart good to hear, when, finding he dwelt longest upon the lustre of my charming eyes, I hastily interrupted him to ask, whether they were like Lucy Barclay's, of dauntless memory ! " Heaven forbid !" exclaimed he laughing— *' In what do they differ?" enquired I " In every thing— in form, in expression, and eyen m colour." " Are they like Clarentine's ?" " He hesitated— but at last said—," I have reason to think them preferable." " And why so ?" « Because,'" answered he, smiling, " their beams-, 139 though arch and sportive, are likewise merciful andU friendly — and upon me were never played, but with a sort of temperated fire, which animates without appalling." " There, Clarentine — what do you think of my animating powers I By this account, however, of the appalling influence of yours, I fear, my good girl, you dealt very hardly with his poor man. He is horrid sore yet, and your name, unexpectedly utter- ed, will often make him literally start! I take pretty good care, though, he should never do so on hearing it from me ; for when we are together, I am perpe- tually repeating it, on purpose, as you do with young skittish horses, to use him to the object he shies at. Edgar used to be quite as nervous upon this subject ; but I think that all powerful medicine, absence, has now nearly cured him. In nervous cases brought on by appalling eyes^ absence, I believe, is your only valerian ! " My mother has just had a charming letter — ele- gant, respectful, yet friendly, from Mr. Somerset. He is now, as you know, I suppose, in Northamptonshire, and purposes coming here for a few days before he returns to town. I am enchanted at the idea of see- ing him, and my mother, likewise, is so much pleased, that she has written to him by return of post to ex- press the great satisfaction such a prospect gi\nes her.' " I could not help thinking, whilst I was reading his letter, what an incomparable trio we should have, if this unhappy man (as I cannot but suspect) is also one of your cast-offs! — yet — Somerset unsuccessful! how should that be? — Eltham would not be so icy about him if he was really a brother-willow ! I can- not make it out; yet something there is to make out, I am certain. I wonder whether it will be possible to wreathe myself into his confidence as I did into Eltham's : I am afraid not. Wiseacres like you and Somerset are never so easy to expound, as crazy- trained people like Eltham and I. 140 * *< Your poor Madame d'Arzele is upon the eve of experiencing a severe loss : her brother, our excellent Chevalier, is going abroad very shortly to join some troops in the West-Indies, I believe, or in Germany, or Holland, or somewhere in short. We are all greatly concerned at his departure, and as for her, poor little soul; she looks quite unhappy. Write to her again soon, my best Clarentine ; and since she cannot be revived by your cheering presence, soothe and comfort her by your distant kindness. There is nobody, I believe, upon earth, she loves with more tenderness than you therefore one word of con- solation from your pen will weigh more than thou- sands from our lips. " Galloping up the avenue, here comes Mr. El- tham : farewel therefore ; I am going to hold his stir- rup while he alights! "Yours ever, "S. D/» Clarentine read this gay letter to Mrs. Denbigh, who was sitting with her at the time she received it, and, who, when she had concluded, said with a smile " Designs^ I believe indeed, your giddy friend has none; but xvithout design, if she don't take care, it appears very probable her little heart w^ill be drawn in: she will flutter about the flame till she singes her wings 1 only wish he may singe his rvhiskers^ and then all will go well, and they may make a very happy couple. Is she pretty?" " Yes," answered Clarentine, " she has a sort of Hebeface^ full of dimples and good-humour, that is, extremely bewitching ; and the dazzling brightness of her complexion surpasses any thing 1 ever be- held." " O then," said Mrs. Denbigh " with such a character and such a form, she will attach him I have no doubt J at present he is not upon his guard against 141 her; he looks upon her, as she says, merely as a com- ic, laughing girl, with whom to chat and rally is as safe as it is pleasant. In a little while, however, if she is really thus attractive, shut up as they both are in so secluded a part of the world, he will find him- self restless and ennuiez without her, and to obviate all future dismiiisiQiis^ will, at once, honestly declare himself, and make proposals to her family." ^^ " Your prediction, my dear Madam," said Clar- entine, " exactly reminds me of what Mr. Eltham once said of her himself: he was describing her, as you have done, as a gay, animated girl, who without beauty enough to sascinate at first sight, would begin by .amusing, and end by attaching: if such should be the case, however, do you think my poor Sophia would be permanently happy with him?" "Why not? We never heard that Mr. Eltham, though wild and thoughtless, was decidedly profligate, or deliberately wicked. His temper, you once said. Lord Welwyn had told you was admirable, no con- tradiction of which were the empassioned and lover- like rages he fell into on being so abruptly discarded: any man of strong feelings upon such an occasion might be pardoned for betraying some degree of re- sentment : and really, my censures upon him have al- ways been so mixed with pity, that I am rejoiced to think he has, at last, met with an honest, unsenti- mental girl, who will permit him to lay his willows at her feet." " You seem to be of opinion, Madam," said Cla- rentine, " he was ill used !" "Not exactly that ; but he was certainly harshly used, and at the time he received his congt had really done nothing to de- serve it." Clarentine, a little shocked at the incontrovertible truth of this observation, remained silent ; and Mrs. Denbigh, reading her thoughts, hastened to change the subject. 142 At the end of a few days, Clarentine was sufficient- ly recovered to be able, though she still confined her- self in an evening, to walk out about an hour every morning. It was on her return from one of these early rambles, that, ascending the steps of Mrs. Den- bigh's house, she beheld Mr. Manners, who, after a fortnight's absence, was hastening, he said, to pay his respects to her. Clarentine, in whom his presence always awaken- ed an emotion of mingled pleasure and confusion, which was now increased by the recollection of his having so lately parted from Somerset, blushed deep- ly the instant he addressed her ; and during some minutes, had scarcely presence of mind sufficient to answer his general enquiries with any tolerable de- gree of steadiness or composure. This, however, he affected not to observe ; but when they reached Mrs. Denbigh's usual sitting-room, and the first compliments between him and that lady were over, taking out his pocket-book and presenting Clarentine a letter, he said " From Captain Somerset, Madam, who at the same time that I delivered it, desired me to give his best respects." Clarentine, now blushing a yet deeper die, re- ceived it with down-cast eyes, and in a voice scarce- ly audible, stammered out something like an ac- knowledgment for his goodness in taking charge of it. " I hope. Sir," said Mrs. Denbigh, "you left your friend perfectly well ?" " Yes, Madam, in healthy I. hope he was, but in spirits he appeared ill indeed." Clarentine fearfully looked up ; and Mrs. Denbigh in a tone that was somewhat sarcastic, said, " And what can have affected his spirits so prodigiously V " Hopelessness and absence," answered Mr. Man- ners, stealing a side-long glance at the astonished Clarentine. 143 " Very extraordinary complaints for a man to suf- fer by, who has his cure in his own power ?" cried Mrs. Denbigh, with yet increasing irony — " Pray, why does he prolong his absence if it causes him such exquisite misery ?" " Because he has no encouragement to shorten it." Mrs. Denbigh was silent a moment, and then, shaking her head, and looking very humble, she said, " You are too problematical for me, Mr. Man- ners : I must give up all hope of understanding you." "And do I appear to you, Miss Delmington, equal- ly unintelligible f" " Equally, Sir," answered she, in a low voice. '' You have more anxiet}", however, to elucidate the mystery:" " No, not at all." " Then, certainly," resumed Mr. Manners, " I will not presume to force an explanation upon you ; we will therefore start another subject ; pray who did you dance with at the last assembly ?" Clarentine, though extremely provoked with him, compelled herself to answer this, and several other questions of the same nature, with an appearance of perfect unconcern ; and very soon after saying he hoped he should have the honour of meeting her at the rooms in the evening, he arose and took leave. Mrs. Denbigh and Clarentine sat looking at each other some minutes after he was gone, in utter si- lence. At last, "Are we to understand by all this," cried Clarentine, " that Mrs. Hertford is groxvn cruel r^ " I imagine so," answered Mrs. Denbigh, laugh- ing, " or that Somerset himself has changed his love, and embibed a passion for some fair tygress." Clarentine shrugged her shoulders with a look of 144 incredulity, but forbearing to say any thing further, broke open the letter Mr. Manners had brought her. It contained not more than six lines, and was writ- ten with a coldness almost equal to her own. He began by thanking her for granting his request; and then, begging she would send the promised letter to him at Lady Delmington's as soon as she had leisure, concluded with a few faint congratulations upon the emendation of her health. Clarentine's heart was too full, when she had read this chilling scroll, to make any comments upon it ; therefore putting it silently into Mrs. Denbigh's hand, she retired to her own room to execute the commis- sion it contained. CHAPTER XXL THE last week of Mrs. Denbigh's stay at Bath was now nearly elapsed, and she and her young friend were already making preparations for their departure, when, just as they had risen from break- fast one morning, Miss Manners unexpectedly made her appearance. " I am come," cried she, eagerly, "to beg, to en- treat, that you will spend the evening at our house to-morrow : we are to have a delightful little private dance, only fifteen or sixteen couple, and as I have heard you say. Miss Delmington, you cannot endure the great assemblies, I insist upon your coming to our Lilliputian one.^' "You are very peremptory !" cried Clarentine, smiling. "Why the dance was half made on your account." 145 " Oil my account ?" " Yes ; mama was very unwilling to agree to it, till my brother and I determined her, by represent- ing the necessity of doing something civil by Mrs. Denbigh and you before your departure." " O then," said Mrs. Denbigh, " I am to take a share in this honour V " Certainly." " But who do you intend shall open the ball with me ? Will your brother, do you think, lead me out ?'» " I have not a doubt of it," answered Miss Man- ners, laughing. " Very well then ; go home and desire him to get his white gloves ready, and tell your mother, "that if she will permit us to make our curtsies at eleven o'clock, we will do ourselves the honour of w^aiting upon her." " At eleven o'clock ? Dear me^ why so early ?" " Because the next day we design to begin our journey, and it has always been my plan, on the eve of travelling, to endeavour to get a little sleep." " But Miss Delmington need not run away so soon ?" "If she is wise, I think she will ; all that, however, I leave to her own determination." Miss Manners then shaking hands with Clarentine, and thanking Mrs. Denbigh for her ready acquies- cence, hastened away full of bustle and business. The next day, about an hour before she set out to fulfil her engagement, the following letter was de- livered to Clarentine from Madame d'Arzele. MISS DELMINGTON. Mont Repos, January. " In what terms shall I thank my beloved and amiable Clarentine for the invaluable new acquaint- ance she has procured me .'' Your Mr. Somerset is Vol. II. N 146 all that is excellent in man ; distinguished in his ad- dress ; elegant in his conversation ; kind, good, and benevolent in his nature ! He has made a complete conquest of me, and the noble trait I have to relate will, I hope, confirm his conquest of you. " Our Sophia, I find by the affectionate condo- lences contained in the letter your friend brought me, has informed you of the heavy deprivation I am about to sustain : my poor Chevalier leaves me in a few days, but he leaves me with a heart, proud as it is, so overflowing with gratitude, that there seems no longer to be in it any room for sorrow. " One of our late poets, you knoAT, has justly and beautifully said, that "En tout pays tons les bons cceurs sont freres,"* You will not be surprised therefore to hear, that your amiable Somerset and our ban Chevalier became friends almost frc-n the first hour they met. The loyaute and the manly simplicity of their congenial minds, attached them to each other with a cordiality and zeal that did them equal honour, and afforded me the liveliest pleasure to behold. Day after day, by mutual appointment, they spent whole hours in wandering about the country together, talking over the wretched situation of poor unhappy France — at- tristant themselves, one minute by fearful predic- tions, and cheering each other the next by brighter conjectures. At length, however, Mr. Somerset's time was expired, and he called to take leave of us : it was this very morning, and my brother and I were both talking of him when he appeared. *' My excellent friends," cried he, as he entered, " I am grieved to say that I am now come to bid you farewel : the happiness I have derived from your so- ciety since I have been here, scarcely leaves me the * Florian. 147 courage to quit you ; and yet," added he, a gleam of unusual satisfaction brightening his expressive face, " and yet, I have a faint hope held out to nrie, that the motive for which I go may be attended with the most exquisite felicity to me ! Ah, Madame d'Arzele," continued he, taking my hand and half smiling, " what would I not give to make you the companion of my journey — the assistant in my re- searches into one of the best, but least penetrable hearts, that ever inhabited a female besom !" . " We both laughed at his acknowledged perplex- ity upon a subject we could not but allow must be so interesting to him, and sincerely wished him all the success he could desire. Who this impenetrable female was, however, we ventured not to enquire, nor did he seem disposed to inform us ; for, rising at the end of a short visit, he first paid his compli- ments to me in the most polite and friendly terms, assuring me he should take the earliest opportunity of waiting upon me whenever he renewed his visit in my neighbourhood ; and then turning to the Che- valier, and putting a small packet into his hand, " My friend," said he, " you will find two letters within that cover, which I must beg you to deliver for me when you reach your place of destination : they are directed : but you will have the goodness, before you go, to seal them." So saying, he shook hands with him in the most cordial manner ; wished him health and prosperity ; embraced the children ; and bowing again to me, sprang into the chaise that was waiting for him at the door, and drove away with a velocity that soon carried him beyond our sight. " We returned melancholy and silent, into the parlour ; and there the Chevalier, glad of any ihing to do, opened the packet, and taking up the seal- ing-wax, prepared to obey his friend's last request. Judge, however, what were his sensations, when, in addition to the above mentioned letters, which were 148 directed to two British officers in the West Indies, he beheld, addressed to the Chevalier de Valcour^ and enclosed in a written eiroeloppe^ a Bank bill for 100/. " The papers dropped from his hands in astonish- ment unutterable, and in answer to my eager inqui- ries, all he could do was to point to them without having power to speak. " I took them up. You may imagine what were my exclamations and feelings upon seeing a note ; but rwever can you picture to yourself the strong emo- tion with which I read these words-— *' Les dons de I'amitle I'ofFensent jamais.* " W. S.» " Generous, feeling, delicate Somerset ! Oh, my Clarentine, that I dared but give utterance to the wish that now rises to my heart ! There is bat one other such mind as his in the world — and that she who possesses it may become sensible of his worth, and prove the sweet reward of all his virtues — Yes, Clarentine, that^ that is the fervent wish of " Your own, " Eugenie d'Arzele." There was something in the nature of this letter so deeply affecting to a heart, which, like Clarentine's, was alive to every impression that a tale of genero-- sitv, or an action of beneficence can awaken, that, melted by its perusal into the most grateful tears she had ever shed, there was nothing upon earth she would not have given for permission to indulge, that evening, in uninterrupted privacv, the sweet though half melancholy reflections that filled her mind. The prospect of going out — of dissipating her thoughts amidst a set of uninteresting people, from the subject that now so fully occupied them, was horror to her. * The gifts of friendship never offend- 149 " To wish, or even to attempt forgetting Somer- set," cried she, " I am persuaded will henceforth be impossible ! I renounce all such visionary idea, and from this moment determine to cherish his remem- brance at the risk of every thing — health, happiness, and peace. Careless whether he loves me in return, my love shall be wholly his : I wed myself to his image — it shall be my darling companion through life — the friend to whom, in fancy, I will repair for consolation, pour out all my sorrows, and dedicate every thought !" Desperate now therefore, and indifferent what might in future be the effect upon her own mind of a resolution so fantastic and so wild, she concluded that in giving way to her imagination, in removing the severe curb she had hitherto put upon its wan- derings, she should lighten her heart of half it had before suffered, and restore herself to ease and free- dom. Somerset, she had not a doubt, loved another : to that other he was now, anxious and uncertain, in all probability gone. " Why let him go ! and let him (she almost added) be successful ! My silent admi- ration can neither injure his more fortunate mistress, nor disturb him : he thinks me cold, regardless, and indifferent. In ignorance therefore and in safety I may still nourish my attachment, and cheer myself at intervals, amidst the gloom that will surround me, with the soothing recollection of his excellence and worth !" In this disposition of mind, and with a species of forced calmness, which painful as it was to her to as- sume, yet in some measure bore the appearance of serenity, she set out for Mrs. Manners's, unsuspected even by her penetrating friend, who accustomed to her being often absent, and ignorant of her having received any late letters, thought not of her present si- lence with any wonder, nor animadverted upon it with any thing but her usual good-humoured pleasantrv. N2 150 In the ball-room, one of the first persons who ap- proached Clarentine, after she had paid her compli- ments to the ladies of the house, was Mr. Westbury. He began with something he intended should pass as an apology for his impertinence on the night of the former assembly ; and then requesting the favour of her hand for the two first dances, on her bowing her consent, almost mechanically, he sauntered back to his seat. Very soon after, Mr. Manners, who at the moment she entered was conversing with some gentlemen in a distant part of the room, advanced towards her with the same petition. At first, so little did she know what she did, she was upon the point of accept- ing him ; but suddenly recollecting herself, she has- tily said, " O no, I can't ; Mr. Westbury has just asked me." " Poor Westbury !" exclaimed Mr. Manners laugh- ing — " He has no reason to be vain of the readiness with which you think of him !" Then lowering his voice, and looking at her very archly, '^ I wonder," added he, " what you are think- ing of? Hopf, Faith, or Charity ?" Clarentine, certain he alluded again to the anchor, coloured ; but affecting to laugh, said — " Of Charity certainly ; or else I could never endure you so pa- tiently." " O pray then," cried he, " always retain this pre- cious virtue when in my company, and I promise always to furnish you with occasions to exercise it. All malice apart, however, will you do me the ho- nour to go down the two second dances with me ?" Again Clarentine bowed ; and Mr. Manners in- treating her not to forget him, went up to speak to a fresh party that was just entering. He had not left her many minutes, when a new candidate approached her in the person of the sen- tentious Mr. Lea, who bowing to her with infinite 151 ceremony, begged leave to propose himself to her as a partner during the commencement of their festive revels ! Clarentine, unused to such a mode of pleading, and surprised at the idea of a man's dancing at all who seemed verging towards sixty, drew back htr hand with a look of grave astonishnient, and not certain she had perfectly understood him, said, <■<■ Sir?" " Madam," resumed he, " am I authorised to in- vestigate into the number of your actual engagements ? Can you vouchsafe me the — " " Sir," interrupted Clarentine, extremely sickened of him, '■'• I am already engaged, I thank you, for the four first dances, and after they are over I shall go home immediately." " I hope not," cried Mr. Lea, " I hope a lady whose physiognomy indicates such dulcet benignity, cannot meditate so direct a deviation from humanity ?" Clarentine, not in spirits to be amused by this' con- ceit, repeated her first declaration with increased coldness, and Mr. Lea, at length, walked away. The dancing now in a very short time began, and Clarentine, who in the languid Mr. Westbury felt by no means sorry to have a partner who would suffer her to indulge her desire of being silent without in- terruption, w as called to join in the set that was form- ing. Not long, however, had she reason to congra- tulate herself upon her good fortune ; for scarcely had she been standing up five minutes, when Mr. Manners led a young lady whom he had engaged since her refusal, next couple to where she was pla- ced, and seemed determined to draw her into con- versation. " Pray, Miss Delmington," said he, half laugh- ing, '*■ how could you have the cruelty to listen to the eloquent Mr. Lea with such repulsive gravity ? I watched you the whole time he was speaking to you, and really never saw any thing so petrifying as 152 your countenance. What did he say to you, may I ask ?" " He talked to me, I believe," answered Clarentine negligently, "of the dulcet benignity of my physiog- nomy /" Mr. Manners laughed heartily at this reply, and was proceeding to question her further, when a ser- vant approaching him, said something in alow voice, and the next moment apologising to his partner for quitting her an instant, he hastened out of the room. Clarentine, relieved by this unexpected summons, and in no humour to begin any conversation with her unknown neighbours, was now permitted to go up the dance very quietly ; and although she yet scarce knew one step of the figure, was within two couples of the top, when, casting her eyes accident- ally towards the door, she saw Mr. Manners re-enter the room, immediately followed by Capt:\in Somer- set ! An involuntary, but scarce audible exclamation of " Good God !" escaped her ; and changing colour, it was with difficulty she knew how to keep her place, or stammer out a faint excuse for the sudden start and ejaculation which had given rise in her nearest neighbours to so much astonishment. Meanwhile Somerset, stili following his friend, was introduced by him to his mother and sister, the latter of whom, after a short conversation, he led to- wards the dancers, and stood up with himself, whilst Mr. Manners, apparently much satisfied v/ith this arrangement, returned to his former station, and, but that he was prevented by her being now obliged to begin the dance, seemed very much inclined to re- turn likewise to his former amusement — questioning and observing Clarentine. Never was a dance worse gone down, or a figure more miserably blundered. Mr. VVestbury, as ab- 153 sent from airs and ton as Clarentinc was from real agitation, affected as little to know what he was about as herself; and sometimes standing quite still, at others roughly, yet carelessly twisting every body round who came in his way, he made such a horrible confused business of it, that Clarentine, ashamed of the observation they both excited before they reach- ed the bottom, entreated him to let her sit down, and without waiting for an answer ran to the first vacant seat she saw. Persuaded now that Somerset either knew not that she was in the rodm, or forbore speaking to her through pique, she thought herself secure, in the re- mote corner to which she had retired, of not being noticed, and followed him with her eyes through the whole dance. Naturally well bred, and always ex- tremely attentive to women, he conversed, she saw, occasionally with his lively partner, but with so little of his usual animation, and an air so absent, and even for him, negligent, that it was evident his thoughts were widely wandering from the subjects he discuss- ed, and scarcely permitted him to speak upon them with common presence of mind. When the dance was concluded, and the ladies were all hastily flying to their seats, Somerset in passing Clarentine's to conduct Miss Manners to one near it, at length saw and knew her. He stopped ; a deep glow instantly overspread his face, his eyes sparkled with delight, and unconsciously quitting his fair companion, he advanced eagerly towards her, saying, " Miss Delmington ! and I not know she was here ! not perceive her before !" "• That," replied Clarentine, forcing a smile, and attempting to speak with composure, " is by no means wonderful, as I have been sitting stilL during the greatest part of the dance." Just then they were joined by Mr. Manners, who seemed purposely to have forborne mentioning Cla- 154 lentine to his friend, for the malicious pleasure of witnessing the first effects of his surprise on behold- ing her. " Mr. Somerset," said he gravely, " w ill you have the goodness to conclude one part of your business before you take any other in hand ? My sister is waiting for you to find her a seat." Somerset looked a little disconcerted, but affect- ing to laugh, was actually going to repair his omis- sion, when he perceived Miss Manners very com- posedly leaning back in a chair talking to some gen- tleman at the upper end of the room. " Your sister," cried he, turning round again, " is already placed ;" then once more addressing Claren- tine, *' have you no wish," said he, " to hear how I left your friends at Delmington, and Moiit Repos .^" The mere name of the last mentioned place made her colour by bringing to her mind the letter she had so lately received : however she immediately said " I hope they were all well ?" " Yes, perfectly ; indeed I think I never saw any of the party look better. " Does Lord Welwyn still intend coming to town next spring ?" *' He seems determined upon it ; there is one in- dividual in that part of the world, however, who I fancy you will see yet sooner." " Sir Edgar, do you mean ?" " No : his gay sister." " And what should bring her to town alone ? " She will not come alone." " Good heaven, then," exclaimed Clarentine, " is she married ?" " O, now," cried Somerset, laughing, " you are a little too precipitate ! No, she is not yet married, nor, I believe, aware of the danger she is in of soon being so ! but appearances are strongly against her : she is really sometimes almost grave," 155 <* If that," said Mr. Manners, who had hitherto listened in silence to this little dialogue, " is a symp- tom of impending matrimony, how soon we may ex- pect to see Miss Delmington under some other name !" "vl^s she then," asked Somerset, anxiously fixing her blushing face, " so very grave ?" " Grave ! she is even taciturn, and so subject to Jits of absence^ she forgets almost every thing." " I conclude," said the conscious Clarentine, ad- dressing Somerset, " you know enough of Mr. Man- ners, not to give implicit credit to his ironical ex- pressions ?" " O, if I thought Somerset doubted me," cried he^ " I would give him a few instajices directly." " No, pray don't trouble yourself, but let me hear what further Mr. Somerset has to say concerning Miss Delmington." " O, his distress on account of your reported gravity has put all that out of his head ; you'll get nothing more from him. Miss Delmington, unless when he has recovered his consternation a little, you choose to take him for your partner during the two next dances, instead of me.** " Setting aside all personal vanity,** cried So- merset, " upon my word, Miss Delmington, I think you will profit by the exchange, since at least, in me, you will loe sure of not finding a tormentor.'* " I accept the offer then," said Clarentine, (and she never spoke more truly,) " with gratitude." Somerset bowed his thanks, and looked them yet more expressively ; whilst Mr. Manners, leaning down, said to her in a low voice — " This, I think, is the Jirst time I have ever been so fortunate as to do any thing you sincerely approved ?" '' I hope, at least," said Clarentine, endeavouring to rally, " it will not be the last^^^ — and then, seeing 156 young Westbury advancing towards her, she arose, and once more accompanied him to the dancers. Somerset's looks, his voice, his manner of addres- sing her, operated upon Clarentine with the force of enchantment, and dispelled insensibly, but entirely, the thoughtfulness and dejection that had rendered her so indifferent to every thing daring the early part of the evening. Restored to all her natural cheerful- ness and vivacity, no cloud sat now upon her brow, no sadness oppressed her heart ; but re -animated by the mere pleasure, after so long an absence, of again beholding him, a smile of innocent gladness played upon her lips, and an expression of delight beamed in her eyes. Heedless, therefore, how her insipid partner ac- quitted himself, she went down the dance with a lightness and activity that appeared no less to shock and confound him, than it amused the observant Mr. Manners, who following her, when, breathless but not dispirited, she went back to her seat, said with a look more than usually provoking — " I really begin to think. Miss Delmington, I shall not have fortitude sufficient to renounce my prior claim. You went down this last dance so admirably, seeming ' to rise from the ground like feathered Mercury ^^ that I could have dashed my head against the wall for very madness, at the idea of having been blockhead enough to give you up ! — Come," added he, " be generous and ac- cept me again : I dare say Somerset will be perfect- ly content to go on with my sister." " Mr. Somerset,** said Clarentine, a little drily, *• may go on with whom he pleases, but at all events, I look upon the engagement. Sir, between you and me as dissolved, and must beg you will excuse my renewing it." " Good God, then why did you dance this last time so provokingly well, and the iirst so languidly 157 ill? I really thought you had been indisposed, and did not wish to stand up." " And with that idea you imagined it was doing your friend a great favour to consign me over to him !" •■' O, I could not tell what change his powers of entertainment might produce, and hoped he would enliven and revive you ; mine I distrusted." *' And indeed you did well, for I think if I was to listen to you much longer you would make me completely low-spirited !'* " Le compliment est gallant I'* cried he, laughing. '' I am afraid not;** said Clarentine, " but really you fulfil your promise, or rather your threat, so li- terally, that you sometimes exercise my patience too much." " I find then," cried Mr. Manners, " you reserve your dulcet benignity for the fortunate Mr. Lea ; at least you seemed infinitely more patient with him than you ever are with me." " He only wearied — you purposely provoke me." " O there's no harm in that, since at any time I had rather be said to partake of the nature of a provoca- tive than a soporific !" Here Miss Manners advanced towards them, to intreat Clarentine would make one in a set that was going to be formed for dancing a reel — " Nav, don't look shy," added she, seeing her shrink from the idea of so public an exhibition, " you won't be at all con- spicuous, for I hope to get enough to make a double set." And then taking her hand, and drawing her away, she allowed her no time either for hesitation or objection. Dancing among the liveliest and the most airy young- people in the room, Clarentine, to her utter conster- nation, now beheld the profound and scientific Mr. Lea, aflfecting all the alertness and vivacity of a youth. Vol. IL O 158 with all the sober symptoms in his countenance of a man bordering upon his grand climacteric. Not hav- ing been able to procure a partner to his taste (he was a great admirer of youth and beauty) for the country dances, he had, at last, thrust himself into one of the reels, and much to his own satisfaction, and yet more to the amusement of every tittering miss in the room, was displaying all his attitudes and gra- ces to infinite advantage. The moment the dance was over, a young lady, who as well as Clarentine, had been engaged in it, flew after her as she was returning to her seat, and eagerly called out — " Lord, Miss Delmington, can you possibly tell who that droll little old man is, who has been smirking and skipping away with us so odd- ly?" "No," answered Clarentine, smiling, "I know nothing more of him than his name; but here comes Mr. Manners, who can perhaps give you better infor- mation." To Mr. Manners, therefore, the fair enquirer next applied, who with great solemnity assured her Mr, Lea was a gallant bachelor, with a large fortune, and very much worth captivating by any single lady wh6 might be allured by his appearance. " He rich ?" cried she, with a look of contempt — " Dear, that's impossible ; he's got the shabbiest coat I ever saw in my life." "You must not judge of male Grecians by their dress;" said Mr. Manners, "it should be left to the modern y^m^/^ Grecians to distinguish themselves in that way !" " Lord, what don't you like the present style of dress .^" " It renders you so fascinating, that I am afraid of fiking ic too well." Satisfied with this little compliment, the pretty Gre- ciati then tripped away. 159 When she was gone — " Is it really true, Mr. Man- ners," said Clarentine, " that Mr. Lea is what you told Qs — a man of fortune?" " Yes, upon my honour, have you any designs in consequence ?'* " I think he would make an excellent husband for Mrs. Westbury." " O no, they are too much alike." " Don't you approve then of a similarity of dis- positions and pursuits between married people ?" "Not to too great an extent: it either engenders a spirit of rivalry and contention between them, or makes them completely fade and mawkish, always echoing to each other the same unmeaning " yes, my dear," and " no, my dear." Somerset, who, during the reel had been talking in the card-room with Mrs. Denbigh, now approached to claim his ready partner. Mr. Manners affected to resign her with the most violent murmurings, but at length, suffering her to go, said he would guard her seat during her absence, finding it impossible to dance again after making such a sacrifice. Whilst they stood up, before they were too much engaged in the dance to be able to converse, Claren- tine and Somerset, with apparently equal pleasure, renewed their discourse upon the subject of Delming- ton and its neighbourhood. He confirmed what he had already hinted of the mutual partiality of Eltham and Sophia ; and said, that from the very great satis- faction with which Lord Welwyn seemed to observe it, he had not a doubt of his giving the readiest con- currence to the match. " Lady Delmington, how- ever,'* added he, " like an anxious and tender mother, is evidently in some little alarm (Mr. Eltham not having yet declared himself) for her daughter*s tran- quillity and happiness. She knows not how to re- fuse him admittance, and yet his daily visits, I saw, gave her uneasiness : she thinks him insinuating and 160 agreeable, and should he now fly ofT, I fear, judges very rightly that poor Sophia's gaiety would fly off w^ith him." " Ah, how cruel it would be in any man," cried Clarentine, earnestly, " to destroy a gaiety so inno- cent and playful ! — 1 could never forgive Mr. Eltham if he was the cause of doing this by my excellent Sophia !" " I sincerely believe," cried Somerset, " he has no such design, and his uncle appears convinced of it." Clarentine was very anxious to know, how, on their first meeting, Eltham had behaved to Somerset ; but before she had gained courage to attempt any direct enquiry, he changed the subject, and asked her when she thought of leaving Bath — u \ye go to-morrow," answered she. " To-morrow ?" repeated Somerst. " Do you in- deed ? And how, Miss Delmington, after all the gaiety in which you have here been engaged, will you be able to endure the privacy and retirement of Mr. Lenham's house ?" " Shall I gain credit," replied she, smiling, " if I tell you that all this dissipation has wearied me, and that I shall rejoice on being restored to my former way of life ?" " Yes," cried he, warmly, " credit of every de- scription !" They were now interrupted by being obliged to join in the dance, during the rest of which they had very little opportunity for continuing the conversa- tion. When Clarentine moved towards her seat, Mr. Manners, she found, had kept his word, and guard- ed it for her most strictly. On seeing her advance, he instantly yielded it ; but choosing to station him- self by her side, nothing further was said but upon general subjects, and at the end of her second dance with Somerset, Mrs. Denbigh called her to go home. 161 " At what hour in the morning," said Somerset, as he led her out, " do you set off ?" " At nine o'clock, I believe.'* " And will you allow me to breakfast with you be- fore you go r" « Certainly !" " Good night then, dearest Miss Delmington," cried he, gently pressing her hand. " Good night," repeated Clarentine ; and jumping into the coach, it immediately drove off. Seldom, even in the earliest and happiest period of her life, had the heart of Clarentine felt more easy, more completely satisfied, than it did on her return from this ball. In the absence of Mrs. Hertford, to have seen, to have conversed and spent the whole evening with Somerset, was to her a gratification so unexpected, so new, and so superior to all others, that she felt as if it had repaid her for every inqui- etude she had lately endured. What could have brought him so suddenly to Bath she neither found it possible to divine, nor thought it much worth her while to conjecture ; it was sufficient for her that he xvas there — that she should again behold him the fol- lowing day — and that he still, notwithstanding the coldness of his letter, seemed to think of her with regard. There were intervals, when recollecting the motive which he had told Madam d'Arzele carried him from Delmington, she faintly whispered to her own heart, that it might be perhaps to investigate her sentiments he was come : afraid, however, of long in- dulging such an idea, she endeavoured to drive from her mind all anticipation of the future, and to rest her thoughts, contented and thankful, upon the sere- nity of the present. Mrs. Denbigh before they separated for the night, observing the unwonted vivacity that danced in her eyes, and the cheerfulness, as well of her conversci- tion, as the very tone of her voice, congratulated hev 02 162 archly upon the change, and very earnestly request- ed to know what could possibly have occasioned it? Clarentine blushed and laughed, but ventured not to rally in return ; and soon after went up to her own room. CHAPTER XXII. BEFORE Clarentine had quite completed her packing the next morning, word was brought her that Captain Somerset was below. The glad tidings no sooner reached her, than despatching what else remained to be done with all the quickness her half- trembling hands would allow, she ran down stairs to receive him. A bright glow animated her whole countenance as she entered, and in a cheerful voice she called out — " You would teach us to keep early hours, Mr. So- merset, %vere you often to breakfast with us." " I should be happy," said he, taking her hand and gazing delightedly at her, " to teach you any thing that has the power of making you look so well." Clarentine was too conscious of the emotion which had occasioned these good looks, to receive this compliment entirely without embarrassment ; chang- ing the subject therefore directly, she withdrew her hand, and as she seated herself, said — " I am afraid, as Mrs. Denbigh is not yet ready, it will be rather late before we have done breakfast and can set out." " I hope, however, if it should," cried he, " you will think your escort strong enough to banish all alarm." Clarentine looked surprised, and Somerset watch- ing her countenance whilst he spoke, added — •" You will not, I flatter myself, Miss Delmington, oppose 163 my intention of attending you in a separate chaise to London?" '- Scarcely able to conceal the pleasure this inti- mation gave her, Clarentine cast down her eyes, and in a low voice answered — " No, certainly— if you — if it was your design to leave Bath so soon." " I had but one reason for visiting Bath at all," cried he, " and that cannot be answered by my now making any longer stay at it." Uncertain how she ought to understand these words, and desirous, at least, that he should not sup- pose she applied them to herself, Clarentine now said — " Is Mr. Manners also going to town ?" " I believe not." " If so, you have surely made him a very short visit ?" " I do not think he appropriates any part of it to himself." Clarentine now rose up, and moving towards the breakfast table, said with a half smile — " You are quite enigmatical this morning, Mr. Somerset, I am not at all equal to comprehend you." And then beg- ging him to ring the bell, she busied herself in pre- paring the things for making tea. Somerset, without attending to her request, or seeming to hear it, was approaching her and begin- ning to speak again, when the door opened, and Mrs. Denbigh appeared. He bit his lips, and immedi- ately retreating, bowed to her from the place where he had before stood, but seemed unable to utter a word. Mrs. Denbigh finding them both thus mute (for Clarentine, from the instant he had advanced, had felt a degree of agitation that now rendered her as incapable of speaking as himself), at length said with a laugh — " How long has this reciprocal silence last^ ed — and how much longer is it to last ?'* 164 Somerset recovering first, with a forced smile, an- swered—" Attribute it to we, Madam j Miss Del- mington accused me when I did speak of doing it so unintelligibly, that I not only became fearful of at- tempting it again, but communicated to her a share of my own taciturnity." " Mysteriousness seems to be a reigning fashion," said Mrs. Denbigh, " among the young men of the present day ; your friend Mr. Manners is so incom- prehensible sometimes, that he sat here talking to us a quarter of an hour the other morning without its being possible for either Clarentine or me to under- stand one word he said." Then turning to her — " Have you made the tea, my dear ? We shall be very late, I fear." Clarentine, relieved by this change of conversation, repeated her request to Somerset that he would ring the bell, and soon after, the servant bringing up the water, they went to breakfast. At the appointed time the chaise Mrs. Denbigh had ordered was at the door, and the next minute a second, attended by one of Somerset's servants on horseback, drove up likewise. »' Why, pray," said Mrs. Denbigh, as she was passing the window, " what are we to do with two chaises ? and whose servant is that ?" Somerset thtn informed her of his design of accom- panying them. " Oh, you go with us Sir, do you ? Then let me beg your postillion may take the lead, that in case we are stopped, the robbers may get the richest booty first, and afterwards come to us in good humour." " Ah, Madam," cried Somerset, "they would think no prize so precious as that your chaise will con- tain." " Umph ! — W^as that compliment addressed to the beauties of my person^ or the charms of Clarentine^s mindr' 165 ** We will divide it between us," cried Clarentine, *' and each take our share as well of what belongs to the person as the mind." During this time the servants had been busied in cording the trunks behind the chaise, and arranging every thiijg preparatory to their setting out. When this was done, Mrs. Denbigh's man came to announce its being ready, and Somerset, assisting her and Cla- rentine to enter it, bade them farewel till they met at dinner, and hastening to his own solitary vehicle, got into it and drove after them. "Well, my young friend," said Mrs. Denbigh, af- ter they had rode on some time in silence, "does your heart feel as light just now, as your countenance looks complacent ? It is a very agreeable thing, don't you allow, to travel at one's ease under safe and pleasant convoy, and to have it in one's power, in case of ac- cident, to make signals to the guard-ship^ and call it up in a moment ?" " Yes," answered Clarentine, laughing, *' very a- greeable." "Spoken out like an honest, good girl!" cried Mrs. Denbigh. But pray now, tell me what brought our protector to Bath so opportunely ?" " Indeed, Madam, I know no more than your- self." " You did not expect to see him when you went to the ball last night ?" " No certainly." " Has he yet spoken to you of Mrs. Hertford at all?" " Not one word." " Should you have any objection to my asking him, as cautiously as I can, a few questions concerning her?" Clarentine hesitated a moment, but at length said — " If you will have the goodness to make your en- quiries when I am not present, none in the world." 166 ** Very well then, I shall set about it as soon as we arrive at the inn, if I can find an opportunity." Clarentine now infinitely better fitted to relate such an anecdote with composure than she had been the preceding day, communicated to Mrs. Denbigh the truly generous action she had heard of Somerset from Madame d'Arzele. The story made that lady's eyes glisttn with tears, and became the subject of their conversation during the greatest part of the mornmg. Amongst other things — *' I have long known," said Mrs. Denbigh, '^ this youthful guardian of yours, and long believed that, '' take him for all in all,' there does not exist a man upon earth %vith a more noble spirit, or a kinder heart ; these virtues, how- ever, and the conciliating gentleness of his manners, make him but the more dangerous where he is belov- ed without a certainty of return ; and I could almost regret, immediately after your having heard of him such an account, that he had not taken it into his head to go any where rather than where you could meet him." " Oh, dearest Madam," cried Clarentine, " har- bour not such a regret ! His presence has composed, has soothed and been more beneficial to me than I have power to describe. I have now brought myself to such a state of mind, that I have no longer any expectations, and I believe shall be affected by no disappointment ; to see him as a friend is all I wish, and—-" " Pooh, pooh ! you are talking romance and pla- tonism to me again ! Be firm and resolute, Claren- tine, and either determine to avoid seeing him in fu- ture at all, or endeavour to assure yourself you can see him upon some less delusive system." " Endeavour to assure myself!" repeated Claren- tine, a little dismayed — " Good Heaven, Madam, how would you have me effect this ?" " You sent off Mr. Ehham for dangling idly after 167 you, and not decl^iring himself ; send Mr. Somerset off for the same reason." " Dear Madam, can the attention he pays me be caWtd dangling- ? Does it at all resemble Mr. El- tham's ? And is he not much more authorised to pay it in his double connexion of guardian and relation ?" " If that attention was not destructive to your peace, I should say he was : but, Clarentine, do you believe you can ever persuade me it will be possible for you to return to common sense whilst you are hourly receiving it without knowing the design with which it is paid ? A young woman should either be very certain of the mutual affection of a man she loves, or sedulously renounce his society, since ab- sence, as your friend Sophia says, is the only cure for ill-placed partiality." " I did not find," said Clarentine, suppressing a sigh, " that my cure had made any great progress du- ring the two months we staid at Bath." " Tzuo months ! six months my dear child, would scarcely be enough to eradicate your complaint ! You have indulged it, as if you apprehended the recovery would be worse than the disease. However, I will say no more upon the subject just now ; you have got into a sort of fool's paradise (pardon the expression) from which it is almost pity to recal you ; and so here for the present ends my lecture. She then began talking of indifferent things. During the remainder of that day's journey no- thing material occurred : Mrs. Denbigh had no op-» portunity of making the enquiries she meditated, nor had Somerset any of speaking to Clarentine apart, They all appeared cheerful and happy when they met ; spent the evening in perfect harmony, and se- parated at night in unabated good spirits. The next morning, about a quarter of an hour be- fore they left the inn at which they slept, Mrs. Den- bigh calling after Somerset, as he was leaving the 168 room to give some orders to his servant, begged him to shew her a letter he had promised to let her read from Mr. Lenham, containing some public news they had been talking over during breakfast. Somerset, hastily feeling in his pocket as he stood with the door half open in his hand, delivered the letter to Claren- tine, who just then happened to pass him, and saying, " will you have the goodness to give it to Mrs. Den- bigh ?" ran away expecting the chaises would be an- nounced every minute. Mrs. Denbigh opened it as soon as he was gone, whilst Clarentine, not knowing how to fill up so comfortless an interval, traversed the room with listless steps, stopping from time to time to observe what was passing in the inn yard, and then renewing her walk. In less than ten minutes Somerset returned, and Mrs. Denbigh gravely folding up the letter, present- ed it to him with great formality, and said, " I'hank you, Sir, for the perusal of this ; will you now be so obliging as to favour me with a sight of what Mr. Lenham writes r" Somerset stared at first without comprehending her, but the next moment, casting his eyes upon the direction, eagerly seized it, and, colouring very high, said in great confusion, " I beg your pardon — it was a'mistake — this," taking another letter from his pocket, " is what I intended, Madam, to shew you." " I would advise you in future,*' said Mrs. Den- bigh, rather drily, " to be more careful : these mis- takes may sometimes be a little awkward.'* Clarentine, during this short dialogue, had stood at the window, looking first at one, then at the other, with the utmost surprise and perplexity. She would have given the world to know with certainty whose the letter was, suspecting by Somerset's embarrass- ment it could be from no other than Mrs. Hertford : 169 not having courage, however, to hazard the least en- quiry, even in raillery, she turned away on perceiv- ing Somerset was looking at her, and felt truly re- joiced when a few minutes afterwards they were summoned to depart. When the chaise drove on, unable any longer to repress her curiosity — " Was that letter. Madam,** said she to Mrs. Den- bigh, affecting to speak with indifference, "from a female correspondent r" " No, from a flighty and impertinent male one." " I did not suspect Mr. Somerset of having any of that description." " Then you gave him more credit than he de- served.'* " May I ask," resumed Clarentine, hesitatingly, «wh. i" " You had better," interrupted Mrs. Denbigh, " not ask any thing about the matter, my dear, for it could give you no pleasure to hear an account either of the subject or the style." " Dear Madam, did it contain any thing that re- lated to me :" " I see your curiosity is upon the rack, and there- fore till it is gratified it would be vain, I suppose, to expect any rest. Know then, my dear child, that the letter is from Mr. Manners." " Mr. Manners,'* repeated Clarentine, blushing — "Ah ! then its contents, I fear, may be too well guessed !** " Certain it is, at least,** resumed Mrs. Denbigh, " that he appears to have guessed you very thorough- ly ! He writes from Bath some days after his return from Northamptonshire, anci begins l)y reproaching his friend for denying his attachment to Mrs. Hi rt- ford, and yet persisting i^o ungratt^fully in avoiding you. He relates to him, in confirmation of r/hat he seems to have told him before of your partiality, the Vol. II. P 170 little anecdote of the anchor^ upon which, and upon your blushes and confusion at the moment he found it, he lays great stress, not doubting, I believe, its being Somerset's gift. Numberless other trifling circumstances he brings forward in support of his opinion ; and concludes, after a long and very ani- mated panegyric of you, by urging his friend, very stren. ously, to renounce all connexion with thatviper, as he is pleased to call her, Mrs. Hertford, of whom he affirms to have heard an exceeding equivocal cha-. racter, and presses him to hasten immediately to Bath, to restore bloom to the cheeks, and happiness to the gentle bosom of the fair and too tender Cla- rentine !" Thunderstruck by this mortifying detail, shocked to find she had thus cruelly exposed herself, not only to Mr. Manners, but, through him, to Somerset like- wise, Clarentine, drowned in tears, and incapable of interrupting a relation, every word of which was a dagger to her heart, now alarmed Mrs. Denbigh so much by the almost convulsive sobs which escaped her, that reproaching herself for the facility with which she had yielded to her desire of information, she attempted — but for some tiuie attempted in vain — to soothe and compose her by every argument she could devise. When at length, however, the distressed girl had somewhat recovered, and was able to speak, " Oh ! dearest Mrs. Denbigh," cried she, hiding her face upon her shoulder, " how am I ever to meet Mr. Somerset again ? Indeed, indeed, I cannot bear to think of it ! He will know you have reported to me every word of that hateful letter, and from my looks Avill endeavour to discover the truth of its contents. Where can I conceal my consciousness and my shame ?'* Mrs. Denbigh, to calm her a little, then told her, that upon pretence of fatigue and indisposition, 171 she might, when they stopped to dine, retire to a pri- vate room, and have some refreshment sent her, with- out appearing at their meal at all. Clarentine most eagerly embraced this proposal, and thanking Mrs. Denbigh a thousand times for her considerate kindness in making it, recurred the next minute, once again to the subject of the letter. " It was pity then," cried she, " pity for my self- betrayed weakness and folly, that brought ^\y. So- merset to Bath ! His love for Mrs. Hcrtierd may not, nay, probably is not at all diminished, iv-twith- standing the sacrifice his friend's urgency in ;uy be- half might, perhaps, from motives of generosity, im- pel him to make. Oh, dearest Madam ! if you have any compassion, any regard for me, endeavour to undeceive — or rather, alas ! to mislead him with res- pect to my real sentiments! Tell him, I conjure you, that Mr. Manners was in an error j that to any feelings of the nature he suspected no part of my conduct was to be attributed j restore him, in short, to the full liberty he before enjoyed, and never let me undergo the deep humiliation of being supposed so strongly infatuated, that nothing less than the ex- torted and reluctant vows of the man I love can save or restore me !" " My dearest Clarentine," cried Mrs. Denbigh, who now saw her sufficiently revived to bear a little raillery, " you are always either upon stilts or upon crutches ! Be a little rational, and give me no com- missions of this sublime, but lying kind. In the first place, without knowing the true nature of Somerset's attachment to you, it would be madness supreme to tell the poor man you abhor — you can't endure hini — you wish him every evil under Heaven ! Such things are never said by moderate and civil girls ! In the next place, to oblige you, were I even to stretch a point, and falsify my conscience so grossly, it is a thousand to one, whether, after what he has 172 heard, he would take me for any thing but a super- annuated dotard, telling fibs pour mon hon plnishr ^ and meddling in what does not concern me. All I mean to do, therefore, is to listen quietly to the explanation he will, no doubt, be himself solicitous to enter up- on, and to report it to you faithfully and exactly. An old woman who does not wish to be styled a match-maker or a match-breaker^ can, in honour, do no more." When the chaise stopped, and Somerset, hastily alighting from his own, advanced to' hand the two ladies out, unlike the smiling readiness w^ith which she had accepted his services the day before, Claren- tine shrunk back when he would have assisted her, and without looking at him, jumping off the step, ran into the house, and up stairs in a moment, leaving to Mrs. Denbigh the care of apologising for her, and sending some one to shew her to a cham- ber. Confounded at her abrupt flight, Somerset silently followed Mrs. Denbigh into a parlour, where, grave and dejected, he threw himself into a chair near the door, seeming hardly conscious that any one was in the room. Mrs. Denbigh observed him some time without interrupting his reverie ; at length-— " Miss Delmington," said she, " is fatigued with her journey, and not very well to-day ; she has re- tired to lie down." " Not well ?" repeated Somerset, with a look of anxiety, *' I am grieved to hear it ; and yet," added he, hesitating, " almost selfish enough to feel, in hearing it, a species of relief." " You imputed her silence, perhaps, to a wrong cause r" " I hope I did : Mrs. Denbigh could never have the cruelty to communicate to her the purport of that fatal letter?'* " I communicated it," said Mrs. Denbigh, " to .jbviate a suspicion of something worse : she might have thought, you know, it was a challenge, or a letter from a dun — or something very disgraceful in- deed!" Somerset now starting from his seat in great agi- tation, exclaimed — " Good God ! you have really acquainted her with its contents ! Ah ! then, her coldness is but too well explained ! she must think me the most vain and cre- dulous of men, and will fly my sight as an object of detestation !" " No, not quite so bad as that, we'll hope ; — she certainly does not wish to see you just now, but when she gets over the first shock, her anger will chieflv rest where it is most due — with Mr. Man- ners." " Manners has voluntarily and doubly imposed up- on himself^** cried Somerset, " and endeavour to im- pose upon others in a way it gives me the ^utmost pain to think of. With regard to myself, he has per- secuted me with exhortations and remonstrances no less unnecessary, than, upon such a subject, they were extraordinaiy : the error he fell into with res- pect to Miss Delmington, though I dare not trust myself to expatiate upon it, is of a nature that has been yet more pernicious to me, and may be one of those, which, in its consequences, I shall have cause to rue whilst I exist !'* " I do not perfectly understand you. Sir," said Mrs. Denbigh ; " what error relating to yourself do you allude to ? Is it possible that bis suspicions con- cerning Mrs. Hertford.'* She hesitated ; but Somerset, easily comprehending her meaning, exclaimed — "Ah, Madam ! have you also given them admit- tance i* Have my true feelings htcn so little known to you that they remain yet to be explained ? Mrs. Hertford,** added he, " has been to me no more than P 2 174 a friend from the first hour I saw her : I thought her worthy ; I believed her amiable and sincere ; she wrung from me the real secret of my heart, and her dissembled pity, her artificial softness, soothed and flattered me. Whatever the sentiments were she sought to persuade me I had excited in her breast, she well knew my power of returning was passed. Still, however, her gentleness, her apparent interest in my happiness continued : she made herself a sort of barrier between me and misery ; and the seeming generosity with which at the same time that she was hourly insinuating to me her own partiality, she ex- tolled and applauded her lovely precursor, deceived me so egregiously, that I firmly supposed her one of the best, as she appeared one of the most candid of human beings." " And what late reason have you had," said Mrs. Denbigh, " to change your opinion ?" " Re^-son too incontrovertible," replied he, " to be disputed. Subtle and designing as she is, and guarded as in all her measures she has generally been, she was not, however, quite exempted from the vanity and weakness which often leads politicians to commit indiscretions ; she made herself a confidant; and less from openness of heart than from the desire of obtaining admiration and praise for her ingenuity, revealed all her secret machinations to a female friend who has betrayed her. From that friend, a Mrs. Castleton, who she has unwarily, but deeply offend- ed, I received, the day before I left Delmington, a packet of letters, including one from herself, which contains an abstract of Mrs. Hertford's life, and a number of others, written to her by that very lady, within these last three months. The first of these sufficiently told me what was the nature of the others, I read therefore only one of them, and turned from the rest with disgust and horror. Good God ! what .1 train of artifice and deception did it reveal to me ! 175 I could not, but that I saw and knew the hand to be that of the unprincipled projector— I could not have bclitved that such determined hypocrisy, such un- feeling selfishness, existed upon earth! To have been made the dupe myself of her insincerity, I am vam enough to think,' argues nothing to my disparage- ment : sorrv should I be ever to find myself a match for such consummate duplicity. There were passages however in the letter, that made my blood boil with indignation ! They discovered to me that she had not only deceived Miss Delmington in regard to my sentiments, (a circumstance which, unimportant as it may be to her, vet to me is deeply mortifying) but that pains had alsi been taken to infuse into her mmd a belief, that I was coxcomb enough to credit the pre- tended insinuations Mrs. Hertford had given me ot her attachment. In the first place, such insinuations never escaped her ; and in the next. Miss Delming- ton may be assured, if they had, I am not o. a dis- position so lightly to imbibe conceit, or so easily to admit presumption." Mrs. Denbigh, at the conclusion of this speech, lifting up her hands and eyes with consternation and amazement, exclaimed, '' Is it possible ! Good Hea- ven ! Is it possible that in so young a mind such per- fidy and deceit should be lodged ! Your account, Mr. Somerset, makes me tremble, and rejoiced as I am at our general escape from so worthless a woman, I am yet shocked to be obliged to believe a character like'her's exists !" i u i • Then pausing a moment, she presently added in a lower voice, speaking to herself—" My poor Claren- tine ! How could I be cruel enough to blame your virtuous indignation, to discredit your too just sus- picions !" Somerset, who had caught the name of Clarentme, and involuntarily listened to what followed, now said, 176 " Dear Mrs. Denbigh, what suspicions do you mean? Why do you speak in a voice of such concern ?" Mrs. Denbigh had no time to answer him, for just then the servants entered with dinner. Litlle was said whilst they were at table. Somer- set's heart, and Mrs. Denbigh's mind, were too full to allow them to converse upon indifferent subjects, ana whilst the attendants were in the room, it was impossible to pursue that which had before engross- ed them. '' When once more, however, they were alone — " I will not" said Mrs. Denbigh, *' so far betray my trust, Captain Somerset, as to impartto youthezvhoie of what I know ; but this, for your present satisfac- tion, I have no scruple in telling you, Clarentine's opi- nion of Mrs. Hertford has long been such, that after the first moment, she never gave credit to the pre- sumption, if you are pleased to call it so, which that lady sought to impute to you. She esteems you too sincerely to believe any thing to your prejudice ; and, I am certain, has no desire so earnest as to retain your good opinion, and prove to you her own. I must insist upon it, however, that you do not, at this time, either attempt to speak with her alone, or to converse with her upon any but general topics : her mind is not in a state to bear immediate scrutiny ; it has for a considerable poriod been so cruelly haras- sed, that it may trulv be said to have been thorough- ly unhinged. The intelliocnce I have to give her, however, you may rest sssurtd, will afford her plea- sure, in proportion to the just aversion she has long had for Mrs. Hertford, and the cordial regard she ac- knowledges for you." Somerset, revived and enchanted by this friendly speech, promised implicit submission to the two in- junctions it contained ; and forbc^aring to extend his enquiries, eager and, impatient as he was to know the 177 whole that had been alluded to, suffered M»s. Den- bigh to leave him and go up to her young friend. CHAPTER XXIII. " WELL, my dear Clarentine," cried Mrs. Den- bigh, in a tone of cheerfulness, as she opened the door, " our explanation is over, and your Somerset, your friend, is honourably acquitted." " Dear Madam," cried Clarentine, her cheeks tinged with a vivid glow — " explain yourself, I in- treat !" '^ I will ; but you must promise me first to behave reasonably during the rest of the day ; to meet him with good humour, and to answer him, when next he speaks to you." " Ah Madam, do you think, if I hear of him as favourable an account as you teach me to expect, I shall require such an exhortation ?" *' Why I don't know ; you may expect more, per- haps, than I have power to tell, or — " Here Clarentine interrupted her, and too im.patient for longer delay, besought her most earnestly to be^ gin her relation. Mrs. Denbigh, though always composed and tran- quil herself, could yet make allowances for an im- petuosity so natural at such a moment, and too kind to lengthen her suspense, entered upon the promised vindication immediately. The predominant sensation with which Clarentine listened to a confirmation so undeniable of the self- ishness and dissimulation she had long suspected, was horror mixed with thankfulness for the provi- 178 dentiat deliverance of a man so ill formed to cope uiih such artificial double-dealing. Too generous, however, to exult over a falltrn enemy, to accumulate the measure of her errors by illiberal animadver- sions, or to add invective to contempt, she heard the uhole account, though not in astonished, yet in de- ternimed silence, and when it concluded, permitted not herself to utter a single comment upon any part Much, however, remained for her still to learn; Mrs. Denbigh had hitherto confined herself wholly to the subject of Mrs. Hertford; she now spoke to her of Somerset himself— of his avowed affection— his modest apprehensions, and the consi/2^, she read very quietly j but when she came to particulars — such as the story of young Godfrey's disappointment, and the subsequent elopement with EUham, she could 181 contain herself no longer. "Merciful powers!'' exclaimed she, with a mixture in her countenance of risibility and dismay, " Eltham might well despise this unhappy woman : might well caution you against her! why she jilted another man first, and then ran away with him to Scotland before he was nineteen I" Clarentine, less surprised then shocked, said, " It had been well for Mrs. Hertford, if, in this treacher- ous and ahoTnimhlQ friend, she had met with a mind as honourable as Mr. Eltham's : I am persuaded he would never have revealed this anecdote." Mrs. Denbigh went on reading, and Clarentine a- gain opened her book. The journal of Mrs. Hertford's foreign adventures, as well in Switzerland as in Italy, she had no pa- tience to get through, nor did it appear that Somerset himself had; for one of the last sheets having acci- dentally been touched by the hot sealing wax, had adhered together, and remained unopened. Turning next to Mrs. Hertford's correspondence, one of the first paragraphs she met with was the fol~ lowing. " Eltham, as I had reason to believe, is finally dis- missed. I was sorry, as no other rival to the g-uar- dian appeared, to part with him ; but he v,^as a con- stant basilisk to my sight : I loathe and justly dread him more than any man upon earth. My feelings with regard to Somerset are those of indifference : with regard to him they amount to abhorrence." " So then," cried Mrs. Denbigh, interrupting her- self, " poor Eltham was sacrificed to this detestable woman ! She seems to have held you by a wire, and to have guided you all, at her own pleasure, like so many puppets !" Then resuming her lecture, she thus went on. " Whether Clarentine is vain or not, I am unequal to deciding; but that she is /?r(?Wfl? a thousand instan- • Vol. II. Q ces have tended to prove. Upon that pride I have worked; and hy teaching her to think Somerset pre- fers me, yet at my soUcttatio?! (that was not the exact word I used, though) would renounce his own at- tachment to restore happiness to her, I have raised such a storm of indignation in her mind, that, after a very critical conversation, she ended by telling me, Somerset was become to her an object of horror ! I truly believe it ; and truly believe also, they are now divided for life ! If he addresses her hereafter with unusual softness, she will attribute it to compassion ; should he accidentally neglect her, she will impute it to contempt ; when gay, she w^ill believe he is tri- umphant; when serious, she will conclude he is per- plexed. In no one situation of mind can she now ever behold him with ease or confidence." Here Mrs. Denbigh, angrily replacing the letter in its cover, exclaimed, " I can go no further ! This is less a -woman than -^Jitndl No doubt what I have now been reading is the part Mr. Somerset so in- dignantly declared his blood boiled at — is the part that led him so fearfully to apprehend you suspected him of vanity and presumption ! — Good God ! how has she deceived me from the first moment I knew her! So thoughtless and undesigning in appear- ance, so mischievous and unprincipled in nature! — 'Tis strange— 'tis wondrous strange !" Clarentinc to all this was utterly silent ; to have at- tempted any defence of Mrs. Hertford would have been preposterous — to aggravate her errors would have been unmerciful : she • therefore sat a neutral auditor of Mrs. Denbigh's exclamations, and felt re- lieved, when, sickened of the subject, she, at lengthy voluntarily changed it. Late in the evening the travellers arrived safely at llampstead, and proceeded immediately to the house of Mr. Lenham. That gentleman's reception of them was cordial 183 and cheerful ; Mrs. Barclay's, in her way, was friend- ly ; and her daughter's, as usual, blunt and indifferent. After the customary compliments and congratu- lations were over, Clarentine, who dreaded herself, to ask any questions relative to Mrs. Hertford, was by no means sorry, however, to hear Mrs. Denbigh enquire of Mr. Lenham where she was. " At her uncle's house in town,"- replied he. " She is going to Bath soon," cried Miss Barclay. " To Bath r" " Yes ; she complains of her health, and says the waters have been prescribed to her." " Lethean waters they should be," said Mrs. Den- bigh, in a low voice to Clarentine. " I suspect," returned Clarentine, smiling, " she would be perfectly content to resign those to z;^." The change since the morning, which Somerset now observed in the behaviour of Clarentine ; the re- turning sweetness with which she treated him ; the timid sensibility that unconsciously betrayed itself in her fine eyes whenever they met his, and the con- ciliating gentleness of her voice as often as she venv tured to address him, filled him at once with hopes so flattering, and gratitude so unbounded, that, all animation and vivacity, he conversed with a gaiety and spirit which infused cheerfulness into the whole party, and made the evening appear to Clarentine one of the happiest, though one of the shortest, she had ever known. ^ When Mrs Denbigh arose to depart, and had ta- ken leave of the rest of the company, approaching Clarentine, whose thanks for her late kindness were as warm as they were sincere, she took her hand, and pressing it affectionately between her own, said, " Do not talk to me of thanks, dearest girl, but of courage to support your loss : I know not how to part from you, for to me you have proved a compa- 184 nion so invaluable and so attaching, I dread the frightful solitude to which I am now returning. Clarentine, equally gratified and affected by this speech, promised with the utmost alacrity, since they still resided so near, although they were no longer under the same roof, to make her visits frequent and long, and to spend as much of her time with her as she wished. She then attended her to the door, w^hither they were accompanied by Somerset, who was to escort Mrs. Denbigh home, and who, as she descended the steps, held out his hand to Clarentine, and said v/ith a half smile, " Will you not, my sweet friend, be- stow one word of consolation at parting upon your second fellow traveller ?" " No," replied she, cheerfully, "for if he finds the separation very irksome, he need not doubt the plea- sure we shall all have in seeing him as often as he can come to us." So saying, she gave him her hand, which, with blessings and thanks, he pressed to his lips, aud then flew after Mrs. Denbigh. The pleasure with which Clarentine .now revisited her former apartment, and again beheld so many ob- jects that reminded her of the happy time when So- merset and she (upon the same friendly terms to which they appeared to be returning) seemed to have no wish so earnest as that of mutually serving and pleasing each other, was lively and unrestrained. Every doubt of his sincerity removed ; convinced al- most to a certainty of his love, and assured she had nothing more to apprehend from her insidious rival, she surveyed all the different testimonies of his faith- ful affection with the same grateful exultation she had first accepted them : and, at lerigth, retired to bed in a state of contentment arising nearly to felicity. 185 CHAPTER XXIV. CLARENTINE had been settled once more at her venerable guardian's near a fortnight, when, soon after breakfast one morning, as she was sitting alone in her own room, another letter was brought to her from Sophia. MISS DELMINGTON. Dclmington-House, February. '* I have strange things to tell you, dearest Cla- rentine — so strange, that half doubting the possibi- lity of their being real myself^ I am almost afraid ijou will doubt it entirely. One moment, eager to come to the point, the next, frightened and ashamed, I know not how in the world to begin., and as for fi- nkshing.^ really believe I must leave that to the un- moved and tranquil Harriet. Dear, she does stroll about the house with an air so provokingly calm and at her ease, I could almost beat her ! Why*is not every body as distracted and restless as I am? My mother's kind and anxious face is the only one in the family I can look at with any patience : dear Ed- gar is not here, or else he would, perhaps, sympa- thise in my perturbations ; at least, I am sure he would not appear so indifferent. I cannot bear in- difference just now — if I dared I would rather /?z;ic/i people than suffer them to retain the slightest symp- toms of it ! " Must I not now, however, endeavour to begin my story I You will otherwise pinch me when we meet, I suppose. Well, then, take the following strange (there is no other term for it) relation. " We have lived here, as well since the departure of Mr. Somerset as before his arrival, in extreme good humour with each other, visiting or visited Q2 every day, dancing or playing every evening, and — bref—m high spirits and perfect amity. " On a sudden, however, lo and behold ! a few days ago, while with £mma, I was sitting thrum' 7ning' upon our old harpsichord in the parlour, the door opened, and in walked you shall guess who when you hear the rest. " How d'ye-does and very wells, and thank-yes, and speeches over on both sides, I quitted my seat, and taking my work, placed myself at the window, and tried to start one of the usual conversations con- cerning sunshine and rain, wind and calm ; for to speak the truth, my companion's looks and counte- nance perplexed me a little, and taught me, though I scarce knew why, to apprehend something extra- ordinary was coming : these amusing topics, how- ever, had no effect upon him, and every five mi- nutes there ensued a profound and embarrassing pause. " Mercy, thought I, this whimsical wretch is always alarming me ! What am I to expect now ?" " He kept me not long in suspense — but in a short time, despatching poor Emma upon some bootless errand, (I wonder what right people have to take such liberties with my sister !) approached me as I still pretended to be immensely busy, and seating himself at my side, would have taken my hand : I drew it back ; and though I did not speak, looked, I believe a little dismayed, for presently he cried ' why is my lovely friend thus silent and thus frigid ? She takes from me all courage to begin the subject upon which I canie purposely to address her : dearest So- phia,' added he, (my unfortunate little round face teaches every body to be familiar with me) ' speak to me — tell me I may open to you my heart, and that you will deign to hear its secrets with indul- gence I' ' What, more secrets V cried I, endeavouring to 187 ^ lully, I thought I had penetrated all yours lohg ago.' . ' O, no,* cried he again, and almost forcibly snatch- ing my hand, * you know not yet what a capacious heart it is — how many secrets it can contain, nor how nearly its present feelings relate to yourself.* '' I looked up, I looked down, I coloured, I turn- ed pale ; in short, I was so conscious of having the direct appearance of what at that moment I certainly was — a fool — that unable to keep my seat, knowing that the man's piercing eyes were fixed upon my face the whole time, I hastily arose and made an at- tempt to run out of the room : it was but an attempt, however, for instantly pursuing me, he once more caught my hand as I was opening the door, and ne- ver parted with me till not only his own, but 7ny poor secret was revealed also. " Can you conjecture what this double mystery was, Clarentine ? No, you say. Why then, fancy you see us both seated again at that memorable win- dow ; I still looking silly — he saucy, and I am afraid a little secure — and attend to the sequel. " One of the first things he asked me, and almost in as plain terms as I now repeat it, was — ' Can you love me, dearest Sophia V '' I did not answer like poor Kate — ' I cannot tell ;* but my look of indecision, and his own straight for- ward enquiry, I fancy reminded him of that scene, for he presently added with a smile — '-If thou canst love rne^ take me : if not^ to say to thee — that I shall die^ ^tis true — but for thy love^ by the Lord^ no ; and yet I love thee tooJ* — Ay, dear Sophia, more than, after my late disappointment, I believe it possible I ever could love again. Your's is the exact cha- racter I ought to form a connexion with : I know you to be amiable, I have experienced thafc^ou can be generous, and to all those with whom you are al- lied by the ties of nature, I see that you can be af»« 188 fectionate. I will not, however, deceive you, So- phia ; I will not tell you that I feel for you that ex- travagant and impetuous passion I felt for your fas- cinating cousin ; but I admire the excellence of your understanding, I delight in the gaiety of your con- versation, I love the goodness and sincerity of your disposition, and the graces of your animated and en- chanting little countenance have half turned my head! •^— I cannot be happy zvithout you, and with you, I niay not only be happy inyself^ but prove the means of rendering you so likewise. -Be mine, then, dearest Sophia ! complete your work, and as you be- gan, so establish my recovery.' "There were things in this speech, you will allow, that could not be very flattering to my vanity, but in favour of its openness and manly honesty I forgave all the rest. I shall not tell you, however, whether I sent him away to hang Iivnself^ or whether I at length granted the permission he so earnestly solicited, of being allowed to apply to my mother : such secrets never should be told ; but this, (and I write it with almost as much incredulous amazement as you will read it) this I must tell you — the momentous yes, that is to decide our future destiny, we are mutually to utter — on Tuesday se^n-night ! — Heugh ! the very idea takes av/ay my breath ! " O, dearest Clarentine, thoughtless and inconsi- derate as we both are now that we are upon the edge of the precipice, I tremble to think of ail the absur- dities and follies we may both commit ! — My mother tells me he is bent upon carrying me to London this verv spring : I wished — you know how eagerly — to go with lady Julia ; but dread nothing so much as entering upon a scene so new, with a companion, v/ho, greatly as I shall love, it is impossible, how- ever, I can look up to with the deference 1 should to a more experienced guide. The indulgence which the sweetness of his temper promises me, I almost 189 fear, and the means of dissipation which will be of- fered me, I start at, from the terror of abusing. I have not your moderation, dear Clarentine, nor half your native love of tranquillity. I shall become an odious little fluttering coquette during my youth, and degenerate at last into a gossiping old card-play- er — no, I shall not though, now I think of it, for I hate cards : ay, but perhaps your abominable London may teach me to like them ; are ijou become a gam- bler yet t " Give me joy, my own Clarentine, give me joy, if you love me ! — It has just been determined, that instead of going to London to figure away in all the new-fangled frippery of an upstart fine lady, in a house of her own^ and a coach of her ozvn, and all the etceteras that would infallibly have turned my giddy brain, I am this year, while we are in town, to re- side with a relation of his, a Mrs. Germaine, who is to hold my leading-strings^ and preserve me (if she can) from exposing myself ! I am enchanted at this plan, for now I can answer for one half of my con- duct, if somebody else will have the goodness to an- swer for the other half; to support the whole burden myself would have been too much. " I feel so easy and so light since this scheme has been agreed upon, that I am convinced my presenti' vients were ominous ! I should certainly have run wild, got into debt, caused half a dozen duels, and ended by being sent home in disgrace ! " My dearest mother, in conjunction with Lord Welwyn, procured for me this happy release from myself! What sort of a person Mrs. Germaine is, whether young or old, I do not know ; all I have to hope is, that she will hold the reins tolerably tight, and keep us both in good order. Would my mother could accompany me ; or, at least, that we could 190 have succeeded in delaying this formidable ceremony till I had it in my power to congratulate myself on feeling a little wiser ; both the one and the other, however, are impossible : she cannot, at present, quit pelmington, and he protests, that if he allowed me time to become one atom more prudent or more cir- cumspect, he should grov%' afraid of me ! ^ # # # " O this Mrs. Germaine, I dare say, is a good sort of a woman after all. Lady Julia has just been here, and tells me she is to be presented by her, and to go every where with her whilst she is in London. Dear, how people can be so immensely obliging and conve- nient as to take charge of all the unruly rustics that offer themselves to their care ! It must often be hea- vy work ; with me, perhaps, she will find it too light work. It will be very shocking if I should — but it is a thousand to one if I do not some times break out of bounds : I know that I shall have such an encou- raging example in my companion, that nothing less than a miracle can withhold me from following it. " You see, Clarentine, now I feel safe, I grow sau- cy again. ^ " Lord Welwyn's time for setting out is not yet exactly fixed, but I have great reason to hope we shall all take our flight from hence pretty nearly at the same moment; Harriet and Edgar are both to be of the party ; the first will reside with Lady Julia, and my dear brother is to have lodgings in our neigh- bourhood. ^' Talking of brothers, by the way, do not let me be so unnatural as to omit telling you that we have heard very lately from, poor Frederick, who writes with great cheerfulness, has again been promoted, and gives us strong reason to hope we shall see him once more in the course of the autumn. " Mrs. Harrington, Heaven be praised ! is down in Lincolnshire, and has there spent the whole winter. 191 My mother ha^ writttn to her an account of the ho'cus and the ands^ that is to say, of all our late proceedings, but has yet received no answer. I have a notion she will not be much delighted ; she has rather a horror of a certain gentleman, and would sooner admit any body than him, I believe, to the honour of becoming her relation. What is to be done, however ? I can- not persuade him to ask for her consent, do all I will; and her displeasure he onlv laughs at. Horrid undu- tiful ! " Well, but now, my beloved Clarentine, I must bid you farewel. Write to me ; scold me, if in this letter I have shewn too much levity ; give me your pravers and your good wishes, and if* you have any pitv in vour nature, bestow it all on Tuesday se^nni^ht upon your frightened, but most tenderly affectionate, ^' Sophia Delmington." " Give you my good wishes, dearest girl ?" cried Clarentine, when she had read this letter. " Ah, may heaven only grant that your happiness as a wife prove proportioned to your merit as a daughter, a sis- ter, and a friend, and v/hose is the felicity that will be more deservedly perfect." Then sitting down immediately to answer her, while her mind was yet wholly engrossed by the sub- ject, she wrote a letter of congratulation the most af- fectionate and the most cordial, and enclosing in it a shorter one upon the same occasion to Lady Del- mington, sent them both by return of post. Scarcely had she concluded this grateful task^ when she was summoned down stairs to a gentleman, who, the maid told her, was just come in with Cap- tain Somerset. The name of Somerset was sufficient, and indiffer- ent who his companion might be, Clarentine hasten- ed down without delav. As she approached the parlour door, she ^istin- 192 guished, talking with all his accustomed vivacity, the voice of Mr. Manners, and when she opened it, be- held him walking up and down the room arm in arm with his friend. They .both eagerly approached her the instant she appeared, and the first compliments over, Mr, Man- ners delivered to her a note from his sister, who, he informed her was in town as w^ell as his mother, but had not had it in her power to wait upon her for rea- sons which her billet would explain. Clarentine immediately opened it, and found in it these words— TO MISS DELMINGTON. " We came to town last night, my dear Miss Del- mington, and I am already impatient to see you ; the most horrible cold I ever had in my life, however, pre- vents my stirring beyond the threshold, and will pro- bably confine me for many days. My mother joins with me therefore in requesting, if you are not bet- ter engaged, that you will have the charity to come and dine with us. My brother will bring us your an- swer, and should it be favourable, our carriage shall call for you at three o'clock. I remain, " Dear Miss Delmington, " Ever affectionately yours, "Louisa Manners." Albemarle-street, February 16. " I accept your sister's invitation," said Clarentine, folding up the note and addressing Mr. Manners, " with the utmost pleasure, and will certainly be ready at the hour she appoints." " I thank you in her name," cried he, " and will now gallop back to announce the success of my em- bassy. Somerset," added he, " do you return with me ?*> 193 " No ; I am going to pay a visit to Mrs. Denbigh." " Mrs. Denbigh ? aye, true, and I ought to do tiie same ; I have not time to-day though, but give my respects to her, and tell her I shall take the earliest opportunity of throwing myself at her feet and re- pairing my present omission.** He then made his bow to Clarentine, and mount- ing his horse, hastened back to Albemarle-street. Thbugh scarce a day had passed since her return from Bath, during the course of which Clarentine had not seen, and even for hours' conversed with So- merset, this was the first time she had ever found herself .alone with him. The hints Mrs. Denbigh had dropped of his anxious desire to come to an ex- planation had half-frightened and made her cautious- ly avoid all private conversation ; it was not, there- fore, without extreme embarrassment she now per- ceived that al/nost every chance of. escaping it was at an end. iS/Gs, Barclay and her daughter were both in town ; Mr. Lenham was engaged with his young pupils, and Somerset, forgetting his intended visit, seemed by the thoughtfulness of his looks, to be me- ditating how he should begin. Clarentine could not bear thus passively to await the result of that deli- beration, and determining to check all explanation that was preceded by a solemnity so awful, threw on her cloak, wh\ch happened to be in the room, and saying it was yet early enough to allow of her defer- ring to dress herself another hour, proposed accom- panying him to Mrs. Denbigh's. Somerset, suspecting her motive, appeared a little hurt at this constant eagerness to repress every at- tempt he had made to speak to her apart : pitying her evident confusion, however, and knowing her to be incapable of affectation, he was too delicate to de- tain her by compulsion, and therefore, with whatever reluctance, suffered her to quit the room, and silently followed her. Vol. If. R 194 They walked on some time, Clarentine compel- ling herself to talk upon indifferent subjects ; he, ab- sent and grave, scarcely knowing what he said, when, unwilling wholly to lose so favourable an opportu- nity, he at length interrupted her, and cried, " It w^ould perhaps be selfish, perceiving how sedulously you seek to deny me the indulgence of a private au- dience, were I, with a view of terminating my own suspense, to force upon you what I have to say : but will you. Miss Delmington, consent to receive a let- ter from me, and may I venture to hope you will answer it !" Clarentine, grateful to him for having adopted an expedient that would save her from so much painful embarrassment, most readily replied in the affirma- tive, and felt half tempted to thank him for his con- siderate forbearance. On their arrival at Mrs. Denbigh's, they found her at home reading a letter she had just received from Mrs. Westbury. It contained intelligence of Mrs. Hertford's arrival at Bath, and of her having been introduced to her by the gallant Mr. Lea, who, in quality of cicesbeo^ attended her wherever she went. " Farther," continued Mrs. Denbigh, " to the ho- hour of my poor friend's heart, though to the dis- grace of her judgment be it known, she is as com- pletely deceived in this artful woman as we all were. She writes concerning her in the most favourable terms, and at the same time that she thinks it ne- cessary to condole with me upon the loss we must have sustained by her departure, congratulates her- self upon having made so valuable an acquisition to her own society.'* To this speech neither Clarentine nor Somerset made any answer ; the name of Mrs. Hertford was almost equally hateful to them both, and their wish to change a conversation of which she was the object, led them instantly to start another subject. 195 "/have h?d letters also this morning," said Cla- rentine, with a smile, " and letters that prove you. Madam, to be so infallible a prophetess, thai hence- forward I shall be more than ever afraid of your pe- netration." .INIrs. Denbigh begged her to explain he^.-' h — " Have you forgot, then," resunv.d CI ircntine — "' your prediction relative to my friend Sophia r" Mrs. Denbigh, deceived by this speech, as Claren- tine had upon a former occasion i^een by one; of So- merset's, immediately said, '' Is she married r" " Not yet ; but the formidable ceremony^ as she justly calls it, is to take place on Tuesday se'rinight." " I am rejoiced to hear it," cried Mrs. Denbigh, " and rejoiced also to think we are lik^dy so soon to have her in this part of the world : I long to see her ; for a more rational, unaffected creature I am per- suaded does not exist. Coquetry is now so much the fashion, that there are a thousand modern Misses, without half her real merit, who would have thought it extremely pretty to have kept poor Eltham a year or two in suspense, by way of i'evenge for not having been the Jirst object of his attachment." " Dear Madam," cried Clarentine, with some earnestness, " what an opinion you have of the un- fortunate girls of the present day !" " Nay, do not undertake their defence, my dear : their cause includes not yours^ for I am convinced that when once you knew your own mind, you would not keep a deserving man in doubt a moment." Conscious how ill she must, just then, appear to merit such a compliment, Clarentine blushed, and cast down her eyes j and Somerset strolled to the window, at which he remained till the conversation took a different turn. In a short time she arose to go, and attended by Somerset, who, however, took leave of her at Mr. Lei^am's door, walked home. 196 At the hour mentioned by Miss Manners, the car- riage came for her, and conveyed her to Albemarle street. The fair invalid received her with much cordiali- ty, and though impatient under illness and extremely out of spirits, exerted herself to make the day pass off to her friendly visitor cheerfully and agreeably. Somerset was the only guest there except herself; and he was more gay and animated than she had seen him since the night of their return from Bath. A party was formed for the opera the ensuing Saturday, if Miss Manners was by that time sufficientlyrecov- ered to venture outj and at ten o'clock Clarentine took her leave. CHAPTER XXV. EARLY next morning, Somerset's letter arrived. Clarentine, though prepared to receive it, and in very little doubt as to its contents, opened it with great agitation, and read as follows: TO MISS DELMINGTON. Clifford-street, Feb. 17. " Too long, my amiable friend, have I studied your guileless and gentle nature to be tempted for one instant to accuse you of ungenerously wishing to trifle with the feelings and happiness of another. You have evidently sought to avoid giving me any oppor- tunity of unburthening to you my heart ; you have convinced me, that to persevere in attempting it in person would distress and embarrass you : but, at th« same time, having permitted me to address you by letter, you have proved to me that your reserve was not the effect of insensibility to my inquietude, or of any design to prolong it. I bless and thank you with 19V ihe warmest gratitude for this soothing conviction, and now hasten to the subject that led me to solicit your attention. " It can — I think it can, be no new information to my gentle correspondent, that the heart of her devot- ed Somerset has been wholly hers almost from the first hour he saw her on his return from his last voy- age. Bringing back with him the sweet remembrance of what in childhood he had known her ; impatient once again to behold the lovely, the undisguised and youthful friend he had then quitted, he arrived pre- pared for the impression he was to receive, and un- armed to resist her power over his heart. Oh, my Clarentine, as I again surveyed you, as with looks of sweetness and confidence you addressed me, call- ed me your friend, allowed me the indulgence of hourly and daily seeing you, how did the visions, which even in absence I had cherished, strengthen and increase ! Often, when harassed and fatigued by the dangers of my profession, often had I said to my- self, " What a consolatory recompense perhaps awaits me on my return! Clarentine Delmington, the dear, the ingenuous Clarentine, when next I see her, will from an interesting and attaching child, be grown in- to a fascinating woman. Retired as was the situa- tion in which I left her, unless the fortunate Edgar has succeeded in conciliating her aftection, there is yet a chance of my finding her disengaged. Oh, if such should be the case ; if after all my toils, my long exile, and the hardships incident to a sailor's career, I should in her meet with a reward — a friend — a mistress — what would be my happiness !" " These flattering illusions, however, were but of short duration. The distant, and to me, inexplica- ble coldness that suddenly took place of the conde- scension with which, on my first arrival, you had treated me, checked the presumption with which I had indulged them, and taught me, though I had R2 198 liot the courage long to fly your society, at least to conceal my sentiments, and never to reveal to any my disappointment. That coldness, originating in the artifices of a woman whose very recollection is abhorrent to me, I mean not, however, to complain of; it is at length sufficiently explained ; and reliev- ed from the insupportable apprehension of having m}'self caused is by some undesigned offence, I now perceive with joy that it has wholly ceased, and that my friend seems permanently retrieved. " Oh yet, then, my Clarentine — beloved from in- fancy, first and dearest object of my heart ! — oh yet, then, realise those delightful visions ! — destroy not again the fair prospect your own sweetness has rais- ed : prove not to me that, in venturing once more to cherish the hope of your becoming mine, I err too vainly to be forgiven! but accept my vows, and with the noble candour, the generosity that has ever dis- tinguished you, tell me, that you think me not un- worthy of adding yet another, and a more tender title to that of guardian, lover, and friend ! "William Somerset." Clarentine w^ept over this letter with mingled sen- sations of gratitude and joy, and determined by the speed with which she answered it, to prove to its be- loved and generous writer the high sense she had of his disinterested attachment, and the sincere and re- ciprocal affection of her heart. TO CAPT. SOMERSET. " My eyes are yet blinded by the tears your letter has drawn from me : they were tears, however, not of sorrow, but of admiration and thankfulness. So- merset, my noble minded, and I will add, dea?' So- merset, I am yours. My hand I now give you, and mv heart I loner since lost all power to withhold from "C- D." 199 In less than an hour after it had been despatched, this billet brought the warm-hearted and enraptured Somerset to pour forth his fervent acknowledgments at the feet of its fair and ingenuous writer. She re- ceived him in her own apartment — in that closet to which he had so long been denied admittance, and with looks of timidity and consciousness, with alter- nate smiles and blushes, listened to his ardent pro- testations, and frankly confirmed the avowal which his letter had irresistibly torn from her. Insensible to the progress of time, they had spent near three hours together, and Somerset thought not of retiring, nor had Clarentine the courage to send him away, till, at length, they were interrupted by a summons to the dining parlour. She then entreated him to go back to town, fearing that the privacy of their interview would occasion some disagreeable ob- servations from the Barclays, which she well knew would in his presence disconcert her much more cruelly than if they were wholly addressed to her- self. He obeyed her without hesitation, though not without reluctance, and having obtained per- mission to wait upon her again the next morning, took his leave in the tenderest and most grateful manner. Hastening down stairs the instant he was gone, on entering the parlour she found the whole family al- ready assembled and seated at table. She made a confused apology for being so late, and then taking her usual place without daring to raise her eyes, began her dinner in silent embarrassment, apprehen- sive every moment of being interrogated, and una- ble to determine what excuse she should make for herself. Miss Barclay, who from the time she first walked in had never looked at any other object, in a very few minutes fully realised her fears.- '' Has not Captain Somerset been with you all the 200 morning, Miss Delmington ?" cried she — " Pray why did'nt he come in to dinner ?• ' Clarentine, though she expected something blunt, was yet by no means prepared for a question quite so direct, and knew so little how to answer it, that be- fore she could speak Miss Barclay had time to add,- " There has been a gentleman here since breakfast, a Mr. Manners, enquiring for you; but thinking it would be pity to interrupt so snug a conversation, I bid the maid tell him you was particularly engaged with Captain Somerset, and could not see him." Clarentine coloured, and looked as she really felt, extremely provoked, whilst Mr. Lenham, with some severity, said, " And by what authority, Lu- cy, do you allow yourself to deliver such messages in Miss Delmington's name without her concur- rence ?" " Lord ! uncle, I thought it was but doing as one v/ould be done by." Mrs. Barclay laughed, but neither Mr. Lenham nor Clarentine, though almost equally indignant, chose to make any reply. In the evening their party was reinforced by the addition of Mrs. Denbigh, to whom Clarentine open and unreserved, took an opportunity of co:nmunicat- ing what had passed in the morning. That lady, warmly interested in all that concerned her, and en- tertaining of Somerset an opinion the most honour- able, congratulated her with the truest affr-ction upon the happy termination of her late anxiety, and uttered the kindest wishes for her future and last- ng felicity. Somerset himself, the next day, announced the same intelligence to Mr. Lenham, and was heard with equal, if not yet greater satisfaction. Attached to him more as a father than a tutor, the worth and excellence of his nature had been known to him even from his boyish days ; formed to cultivate and value the blessings of select-friendship and domestic socie- 201 ty, Mr. Lenham was thoroughly assured there was no other species of happiness his heart was so well fitted to enjoy, and no woman upon earth, who frotti the similarity of her taste and pursuits, was so per- fectly adapted to his character, as the modest and re- tired Clurentine. The connexion he had once ap- |)rehended he was upon the point of forming with Mrs. Hertford had always given him pain ; less be- cause he at that time harboured any unfavourable idea of her, than because he had discovered the ap- parently hopeless attachment of his young ward, and grieved to observe what ravages that attachment was making upon her peace. He thought himself bound in honour, however, not to betray a secret he had thus clandestinely penetrated, and confining alike his regret and his suspicions to his own breast, forbore all attempts to serve the one, from his reluctance to injure the other. But now that the real character of Mrs. Hertford was known to him, and all competi- tion was therefore at an end, he hesitated not in de- claring the cordial preference he had always felt dis- posed to give Clarentine, and the implicit reliance with which he depended upon the goodness of her heart, and the firmness of her principles. From the moment this attachment became known in the family, the extraordinary license with which Miss Barclay permitted herself to animadvert and make sneering comments upon every look as well as action of Clarentine's, rendered the house so ex- tremely disagreeable to her, that had she been influ- enced by no other motive, she would have found it difficult to resist the urgency with which Somerset implored her to become his without further delay — " My probation," said he, half smiling, " has surely been sufficiently long, dearest Clarentine, and my courtship, though indirect^ has also, I think, been of a duration which in conscience you cannot wish to protract. What more could we discover in each 202 other's characters, after an acquaintance of so many- years, were we now with any view of that sort to de- fer our union even for a twelvemonth ? I am no dis- sembler ; the good and the bad in my disposition, are equally penetrable, and all your vigilance and delay will succeed in detecting in me nothing more than an increase perhaps of love, and a certain increase oi impatience." Clarentine laughed at this remonstrance, but at the same time assured him that, far from desiring to raise unnecessary difficulties, after having once freely avowed to him the sentiments of her heart, she wish- ed only to defer their marriage till she had written to Lady Delmington, and received, what she doubt- ed not to obtain, her sanction and consent. " Ah, rather then, let me write to her !" cried So- merset with warmth ; " I distrust the earnestness with which you will plead for me ; suffer me there- fore to discuss the subject with her myself." Clarentine, by no means sorry to resign to him so awkward a task, made no opposition to this proposal, but retiring with him to Mr. Lenham's study, he tliere wrote a short letter, which,^ though she criticised extremely, he permitted her not to alter, but the in- stant it was concluded, sealed and immediately des- patched. Soon after breakfast the next morning, she receiv- ed the following note from Miss Manners. TO MISS DELMINGTON. " I have at length persuaded my mother that I may be permitted to venture to the Opera to-night without any danger ; the truth is, she does not know that the villanous apothecary who attends me insists ^•upon bleeding me again this morning : he talks of my being feverish, and makes horrid wry faces at me, I^hall not attend to all his professional cant, how- ever, but sick or well, dead or alive, am determined to submit to this irksome restraint no longer. " We have borrowed a lady's box for this even- ing, and are to have it entirely to ourselves. The pit is now become too vulgar to sit in, at least, so I am told. Young Westbur>% who is now in town, and called here yesterday, protests that on Tuesday last he stood during the whole of the second dance next a good old nurse, or something of that sort, who finding the wind blew cold from the stage, turned the train of her gown over her shoulders, and sat with it so, very composedly till the curtain dropped ! " Come to us early, dear Miss Delmington, and make Captain Somerset send his carriage for you, as ours is never allowed (for fear it should catch cold and want bleedijig) to go out in the morning when it has any duty to do at night. '''• Adieu — your's ever, " L. Maxvners." Feb. 21st. This prudent note Clarentine answered with some degree of irony, congratulating its fair writer upon the philosophical indifference she expressed concern- ing either life or death, and applauding her for that enthusiastic passion for music which led her thus to brave all danger for the sake of hearing a fine or- chestra ! She concluded, however, by promising punctually to fulfil her engagement. Accordingly, at the proper time, attended by one of Somerset's servants, she drove in a hackney coach to Albemarle-street, preferring that conveyance to accepting his carriage. Miss Manners ran out to meet her at the head of the stairs, ready dressed and in excellent spirits, but so dreadfully hoarse she could hardly make herself intelligible. Clarentine shook her head at her with an expres- 204 sive smile, and calling her an incorrij^ible 7'acket, proceeded forward to pay her compliments to her mother. In a very short time they were rejoined by three gentlemen who were to escort them — Somerset, Mr. Manners, and young Westbury ; and as soon as tea was over, all repaired to the Haymarket. Their box was upon the second tier, and extremely near the stage, which — the Opera having been began some time before they entered — was already crowd- ed with gentlemen who were standing at the side scenes, and whom in a few minutes Mr. Westbury, as anxious to display the graces of his person as themselves, went to join. Mr. Manners then stationed himself behind Cla- rentine, and addressing her in a low voice, " Pray, Miss Delmington," said he, " till what time did the important business you were transacting with So- merset the other morning engage you V Clarentine, extremely confused, answered, " I ought to have apologised to you sooner for the rude message you received, bpt I assure you it was not sent out by me, nor did I know you had called till after I went down to dinner." " And who was the kind friend that so seasonably undertook the task of removing all intruders ?" " I was very far," answered Clarentine, " either from thinking the act itself a kind one, or you an in- truder." Mr. Manners bowed, and was beginning again to speak, but with an archness in his looks which fright- ened her so much, that, turning hastily from him, she said, " I must not suffer you to talk to me now ; we are going to have a song." At the end of the first act young Westbury re- turned to them, purposely to tell Clarentine he had iust seen a friend of her's, who, when the Opera was over, he would bring round to her. *' I have not 205 been able yet," added he, " to speak to him, for the stage is so full it's impossible to get at him ; but I am siw da monfait^ and determined not to let him go without having seen you." " And who is this friend, Sir V said Clarentine with great indifference. '-'- Mr. Lea, perhaps," cried Mr. Manners. " O, for Heaven's sake, Mr. Westbury," cried his sister, " don't bring him here ! There is nobody upon earth I hate so much !" " And yet," said Westbury, "the last time I was at your house v.hilst you remained at Bath, I met him there." " That says nothing in his favour ; one's obliged to invite all sorts of people sometimes : I repeat it, therefore, he's my aversion, and if you bring him to us, I'll never forgive you.'* " Westbury," cried Mr. Manners, " I'll go behind the scenes with you, and you shall shew me this friend of Miss Delmington's." Westbury upon this took him by the arm, and they quitted the box together, ^ " My brother, I fancy," said Miss Manners, when they were gone, " felt by no means sorry that such an excuse was given him to exhibit his pretty person likewise. Pray, Captain Somerset, don't you wish to join them ?" " Yes," answered he, smiling, " to serve you, and hasten the approach of Mr. Lea." ** O, don't talk to me of that man !" " Then do not talk to me of leaving you." " Dear, I thought I was doing you an immense favour, for I concluded you only staid with us from motives of politeness, and was longing the whole time to play the ISiarcissus among the rest of the to- nish Macaronies upon the stage." " No, really, I have not any such ambition." Vol. II. S 206 " You reserve yourself as a novelty then, to be ad- mired in the coffee-room ?" " Yes," replied he, with a laugh, " you have now perfectly guessed it." " Lord, how strangely you answer ! I can make nothing of you, and so I leave it to Miss Delming- ton to take you in hand." " I am glad," said Clarentine, " your dialogue is concluded, foV as the curtain is now drawing up I shall wish to be permitted to listen to the singers." Very little further was said till the end of the last dance, when Miss Manners, impatient to get to the coffee-room before Mr. Westbury could put his me- nace in execution, hurried them all out of the box, and besought her mother to lead towards it immedi- ately. In their way thither, the lobby being extremely crowded, Clarentine, fearing to be separated from her party, most gladly accepted Somerset's arm ; whilst Mrs. and Miss Manners, less unused to such a bustle, proceeded composedly forward, appearing quite as much at their ease as if they had been in their own house. Though slowly, and with difficulty, they had just reached the door of the coffee-room, and were upon the point of entering, when Clarentine, as she was drawing away her hand, and turning to thank So- merset for his assistance, beheld immediately behind her, wall;ing arm in arm Mr. Eltham, and Sir Ed- gar Delmington ! Doubt and astonishment, not wholly unmixed v/ith consternation, seized her at this sight, and bereft her of all power to advance. She changed colour, and again almost involuntarily catching hold of Som- erset's arm, drew him back, and scarcely knowing what she said, whispered, " Let these gentlemen pass." 207 « What gentlemen ?*' cried he, but at the same in- stant looking round and perceiving who they were, he touched his hat to them, though not without him- self undergoing a considerable alteration of coun- tenance, and stopped to give them time, if they wish- ed it, to speak. Eltham was the first to make use of this opportu- nity. He quitted his companion, and, coming for- ward, gravely said, *' I hope I have the honour of seeing you well, Miss Delmington ?" Clarentine only curtsied; and Sir Edgar now ap- proaching her likewise, in an unsteady voice, and with a countenance that indicated the strongest emo- tion, repeated the same enquiry nearly in similar terms, and then attempted to express the pleasure so unexpected a meeting had given him; the words, however, died on his lips — he hesitated, stammered, and at length abruptly interrupting himself, said as he retreated, " I fear we detain you from your party, Madam ?" Clarentine, in whose affectionate heart the sight of this early friend had revived the remembrance of all their former intimacy, was struck with sorrow, on recovering from her first amazement, at the dejec- tion of his looks and voice, and concerned to hear herself addressed by him with such chilling forma- lity. Innocent and unreserved, she had forgot the cause which had separated them, and seeing him on- ly in the light of a long absent brother — -of one whom she had always loved, and still retained the truest re- gard for, she held out to him her hand, and, in a tone of the most conciliating kindness, said — " No, my dear Sir Edgar, you do not detain me : I stay because I am sincerely rejoiced to see you, and have a thousand questions to ask concerning your family. How did you leave Lady Delmington, and my dear- est Sophia?" Sir Edgar surprised, yet deeply affected by this 208 friendliness and cordiality, accepted her offered hand with gratitude, and bowing upon it as if to conceal his agitation, after a momentary pause, answered, *' They were both well, I thank you, and would both, had they known the honour I should have of seeing you whilst in town, have made me the bearer of their itiost affectionate remembrances." '* What stay, Sir," cried Somerset, now address- ing Eltham, " do you design to make in London?" " We arrived,'* answered he, " late this evening, and return on Tuesday morning.** Just then Mr. Manners and young Westbury, as they were forcing themselves a passage through the crowd in their way to the coffee-room, perceived and joined them. " Ah, Sir Edgar,** cried the latter, familiarly ad- dressing the evidently astonished Baronet, '* you have anticipated me, I find ; I had prepared Miss Delmington to accept a friend, and intended to have conducted you to her myself before she left her box, ))ut you were off so quick after the curtain dropped I had no opportunity of speaking to you.** "I have not the honour. Sir," said Sir Edgar, gravely, " of knowing to whom I am indebted for such unmerited attention." Somewhat abashed by this discouraging reply, yet determined, after all the parade with which he had boasted of their long acquaintance, not to suffer him- self to be so easily repulsed, Westbury now said — '' I had the pleasure. Sir, though I was not in the same college, of seeing you often at Oxford: my name is Westbury," Sir Edgar, in answer to this interesting informa- tion, made a slight bow ; and then turning to Cla- rentine, " If you will now proceed. Miss Delming- ton," said he, "we will do ourselves the honour of following you." Clarentine immediatelv moved on, and finding 209 Mrs. and Miss Manners, when she entered, seated near the door, placed herself next them ; Somerset and Sir Edgar remaining with her, the three other gentlemen strolling to the upper end of the room. The mournful silence into which Sir Edgar now sunk, the melancholy expression of his countenance, and the fixed, yet unconscious attention with which he riveted his eyes upon her face, disconcerted and at the same time pained her so much, she scarcely knew how to look up, or in what manner to support any part in the conversation. Gaiety, at such a mo- ment — seeing before her with every symptom of un- happiness a man she had so long know n, and so long valued — it was impossible either to affect or feel : saddened upon such an occasion, or even thoughtful, in the presence of Somerset of him to whom she had so lately avowed her attachment, and was so soon to be united she dreaded to appear : distressed, therefore, most cruelly, and apprehensive of being observed, she sat confused and irresolute, not know- ing how to speak with her usual composure, and re- luctant to betray her real feelings. Somerset was the first to perceive and pity her un- easiness. Too liberal and noble-minded to entertain any suspicions to her disadvantage, he imputed it at once to the true cause, compassion and friendship ; and felt not for a single instant any other sensation towards his less fortunate rival than that of humane and generous sympathy. The depression so visible in that rival's countenance Somerset was, of all others, when he looked at Clarentine, and remembered what had been his own sufferings at the time he fancied her lost to him, the most likely to pardon. Her commi- seration for him he honoured, and the undisguised and artless simplicity with which she had suffered her kindness towards him to appear, much as it might have irritated a distrustful or a selfish nature, he ve- nerated and loved. S 2 ^10 Anxious therefore to dissipate her embarrassment, and if possible to engage Sir Edgar's attention, he ex- erted himself in order to draw him into conversation, and started by turns every subject \yhich he thought best calculated to interest him. Lady Julia he ven- tured not to name ; but he talked to him of his own family, of Madame d'Arzele, of his sister's approach- ing marriage, and of the pleasure \vith which Miss Delmington looked forward to her arrival in town. Sir Edgar, though he was not sensible of half the merit of this considerate civility, answered him with politeness, and made an attempt to appear more cheer- ful ; his success, however, was by no means adequate to the pain which the effort inflicted ; so little indeed did it answer to it, that Eltham, who in a short time again approached them, observing the sadness and despondency with which he still appeared to be op- pressed, hastily moved towards him, and taking hold of his arm, said, in a low voice, yet with great ear- nestness, " Come away, Delmington, come away ! — you'll unman yourself if you stay here any longer!'' Roused by this unexpected admonition, and but too well convinced of its propriety, Sir Edgar mere- ly stopped to make his parting bow, and then with a look that claimed and excited all Clarentine's tender- est pity, suffered himself without opposition to be drawn away. When they were gone — " Who is that dismal look- ing young man ?" cried Miss Manners; "his coun- tenance and figure interest me in his behalf, though he has really made me almost as vapourish as him- self." Clarentine, with a sigh, replied he was a relation of hers, and his name was Delmington " Well, I protest I thought so," resumed Miss Manners, " there is so strong a family resemblance between you, that the whole time he stood here I had 211 got it into my head he was somehow or other con- nected with you. But pray do tell me, what is the matter with him ?" Somerset, who saw the confusion to which this question gave rise, spared Clarentine the pain of an- swering it by saying with a half smile, " Cannot Miss Manners, if indeed she suspects our friend of being unhappy, bestow upon him her good wishes and her compassion, without suffering her curiosity to pre- cede her benevolence ?" " O dear, if his history is a secret, I don't desire to penetrate it ! my pity is heartily at his service, and I am only sorry he has not something more consola- tory to depend on." " He has, I hope," thought Clarentine, " the most certain of all dependencies, rectitude and good prin- ciples !" Mrs. Manners*s carriage being now announced, her son hastened forward to offer his assistance in conducting Clarentine to it, whilst his sister put herself under the care of Somerset, and Mr. West- bury had the condescension to give his hand to her mother. It had been previously determined that Clarentine was to sleep that night in Albemarle-street, and re- turn the following day to Mr. Lenham's. Somerset therefore took leave of her at the coach door, after receiving an invitation from Mrs. Manners to break- fast the next morning. Clarentine*s mind, after this distressing interview, remained in a state of the utmost inquietude and agi- tation. Sophia's late letters, and the favourable ac- counts she had heard from time to time of Sir Ed- gar's amended spirits, had taught her to hope, as well for his own as the sake of Lady Julia, that the juve- nile partiality he had felt for her had wholly given way to reason and absence. The deep and settled depression, however, she had with so much regret ob- 212 served in his appearance — —his manners — ^liis very voice, had destroyed all those expectations, and left her nothing but the afflicting consciousness of having, with whatever innocence, been the means of blasting all his youthful happiness. Soft and gentle as was her heart, this certainty was anguish to her; and she wept with bitterness over the fate of a man, whom, to have restored to peace and tranquillity, she would have sacrificed almost every personal gratification. Sincerely did she lament the unfortunate chance which had again brought them together and again revived, perhaps at the very time his laudable and vigorous efforts had succeeded in nearly eradicating her image from his mind, all his former sentiments. No vanity, no little ungenerous exultation mixed itself with these reflections : it was far from being a matter of triuntph to her to think that she had been the cause of giving pain to any human being ; much less to a friend who, like Edgar, had she been permitted to accept, at the time he proposed himself to her, before her heart be- came sensible in favour of another, she would have given her hand to with gratitude, and have made it the sole study of her life to have repaid him for his disinterested preference. Her love for him as a child had been animated and sincere, and though, as she grew up, the frequent changes she witnessed in his temper, perplexing as they were to her till the ill cho- sen moment of his declaration, had often piqued and offended her, yet the habit she was in of regarding him with confidence, and treating him with intimacy, assured her that in contributing to his felicity she should greatly have promoted her own. That time, however, was passed; and equal to the wretchedness he experienced would now have been hers, had she, to unite herself to him, been compelled to renounce Somerset ! " Alas ! then, dear Edgar," cried she, " what re- mains for me to do, but, with my pity, to offer up 213 for you my most fervent prayers for the restoration, through some other channel, of that happiness, which, even if I had still the power to confer, I could no longer participate ; but which the sweet and amiable creature to whom you are about to be connected is equally formed to bestow, and disposed to share ! — • Heaven, then, bless and teach you how to estimate her value, and return her innocent affection !" CHAPTER XXVI. AT breakfast the next morning, when she met Somerset, her languor, and the heaviness of her eyes alarmed and grieved him : he had no opportunity of speaking to her alone, earnestly as he wished it ; but hearing she had been prevailed upon to remain with her friends till the succeeding day, put into her hands, just before he went home to dress for dinner, the following billet written with a pencil at the window ; " In my way hither this morning, I accidentally met with Mr. Lenham :— Anxious to hear some ac- count of his unhappy friend, I took him with me into a coffee-house, where we had a long and interesting conversation. Be not so painfully distressed, my be- loved Clarentine : — poor Delmington, great as was his agitation on first seeing you, still possesses a fortitude and manly strength of mind, which will ena- ble him, after this trying interview, to meet you upon every succeeding one with firmness and courage. He knew not, till Eltham, informed of it by some third person at the Opera, announced it to him, the happi- ness I have in view ; the intelligence, at first, startled and confounded him ; but upon the whole, has been of infinite service in determining him more resolutely 214 than ever to banish from his mind every sentiment for you that partakes of more than fraternal warmth. Revive then, sweetest Clarentine, and suffer not the soft compassion you feel for him, at a moment like the present, to supersede all the other affections of your heart ! The deep concern with which your own sorrow has filled me entitles me to nearly as much pity as you have bestowed upon — I had almost called him — the enviable Edgar !" With such a motive to overcome her dejection as the fear of making her generous Somerset unhappy, Clarentine found it no difficult task, when he again appeared, to meet him with all her wonted cheerful- ness and composure. The caution contained in his note, delicate as it was, put her upon her guard, and proved to her, that however distant from his mind all jealous mistrust now was, he could not answer for the continuance of his serenity should her anxi- ety and melancholy continue also. The third person alluded to as Eltham's informant at the Opera, she had not a doubt was Mr. Manners. His raillery and former archness had almost wholly ceased, and been replaced by a respectful quietness, or a general vivacity, which, as it had never, except once the night before, (upon occasion of his abrupt dismission the morning l\e had called at Hampstead) given way to his natural love of tormenting, convin- ced her he was perfectly acquainted with the present situation of her affairs. Early the next morning, Clarentine would have re- turned home, but Miss Manners, encouraged by her first success, besought her so earnestly to defer her departure till evening, that at length she consented : and with yet less difficulty, a quarter of an hour after- wards, agreed to accompany her, attended by her brother, to the Shakspeare Gallery ; Somerset was to be engaged the greatest part of the day upon some professional business ; and Mrs, Manners, expecting visitors, declined being of their party. 215 Soon after breakfast therefore they set out on foot, the weather being favourable, and had nearly reach-» ed the middle of Pail-Mall, when, coming out of a bookseller's shop alone, and with a countenance, which, though not more animated, was infinitely less perturbed than when Clarentine had last seen him, they were met, and immediately recognised by Sir Edgar Delmington. Changing colour as he addressed them, yet strug- gling to appear at his ease, he stopped a few minutes to make some general enquiries, and was then taking his leave ; l^ut Miss Manners, whispering Clarentine, said — " Why don't you ask him to go with us ?" " Shall I tell him you desire it ?" returned she, smiling. " Yes, if you like it ; I have no sort of objection.'' " Why then. Sir Edgar," cried Clarentine, turn- ing towards him with the same look of cheerfulness — " I -am commissioned to request, in the name of this young lady, whom I beg to introduce to you — Miss Manners — that you will favour us with your attendance to the Shakspeare Gallery." " Most willingly ;" replied he, brightening at the proposal, " I ventured not to enquire whither you were going, but be assured, my desire of accompa- nying you preceded the honour you have done me in permitting it." They then all moved on, Miss Manners saying to Clarentine as they advanced — ." I think your solemn friend improves ; that was really a much prettier speech than I expected from him." ♦* Probably," returned Clarentine, " your goodness to him put him into spirits." Miss Manners made some slight answer to this, which her companion had not time to attend to, for just then they arrived at the door of the Gallery. After they had wandered about the room some time, Sir Edgar, approaching Clarentine, who, with a catalogue in her hand, was sitting upon a form op- 216 posite one of the gi-eat pictures, reading the scene from whence its subject was taken, placed himself next her, and said, "Has Miss Delmington any message, any letter to send into Devonshire ? We leave town to-morrow." " No letter," replied she, " for I wrote very late- ly ; but a thousand kind messages, to our dear So- phia in particular." Then pausing a moment, and thinking there would be a species of affectation in so manifestly avoiding to mention Lady Julia, she presently added, " And to Lady Julia Leyburne likewise, when you see her." Sir Edgar suppressed a sigh, and, after a short silence, said, " Have you written to Lady Julia also lately ? or shall I be the first to announce to her the reports that are circulated concerning you ?" Clarentine blushed, but affecting to speak with gaiety, replied, " Till Lady Julia can repay me by some similar intelligence, she might accuse me of designing indirectly to reproach her for her cruelty, were I to speak too early of my own"— She hesita- ted for a word that would with propriety express her meaning, but finding none that she liked, blushed yet deeper than before, and heartily repented having gone so far. Sir Edgar, fancying he had interpreted that mean- ing, supplied the deficiency for her. " Of your own tenderness ?" said he — " Was not that what you would have added? Oh, dearest Miss Delmington, may that tenderness, deservedly as I hope it is be- stowed, be but as fervently, as gratefully returned, as it must involuntarily be envied" — he stopped, his eyes glistened ; Clarentine, too, felt her's fill with tears, and was compelled to turn away her head ; re- covering more firmness, however, he at length added — " Pardon me, most gentle, most beloved of human beings ! — This is not language in which I ought now — I ought ever^ distinct as were our sentiments, to 217 have adressed you ! It is the last time I will per- mit myself to hold it ; but your own softness, and the angelic compassion you have shewn me, drew it from me ! When next we meet, to utter it would be cri- minal : suffer me, therefore, as a relief to my burst- ing heart, this one — this only — " " No, no," interrupted Clarentine, though not with anger, yet with seriousness, " You have said more already than, situated as we mutually are, I ought to have allowed. From this moment. Sir Edgar, we see each other, we converse, but as brother and as sister, or we see each other, we converse, no more !" " I submit to your terms," cried he ; " they are those which, from this day forward, I meant strictly to observe. Too long, dear Clarentine, have I been inured to the painful task of self-restaint, to distrust the success with which I shall in future practise it. I have known every degree of wretchedness, borne every species of torment, which doubt, the appre- hension of detection, and the pangs of disappoint- ment, could inflict — borne them, though not with unremitting, yet with general fortitude ! If, at so early a period I could do this— suffer, yet dissemble — smile, yet be in anguish — ah, need you fear the courage I shall now exert ! — A youth of sorrow should make an old age of philosophy: who knows," added he, forcing a melancholy smile, " what your Edgar may one day become ?" " He will become," cried Clarentine, turning to- wards him with earnestness and (no one being by) giving him her hand—" he will become, I doubt not, as happy as with worth, honour, and integrity, such as he possesses, he deserves to be ! You have a dis- position, dear Edgar, formed for domestic felicitv — cultivate your natural love for it ; attach yourself to those you live with, and above all, cherish and be kind to the affectionate and lovely partner whom you are destined to spend your life with." Vol. II. T 218 " Dearest Clarentine," cried he, penetrated by her kindness, and pressing to his bosom the hand he held, ^' how does this friendship, and the interest concern- ing me you so generously express, soothe and console me ! Yes, best of women ! I will be all your excel- lent heart can wish ! She who has been chosen for me, I will seek to deserve and render happy : the du- ties, whether public or private, that may in the course of my future life be imposed upon me, I will en- deavour to fulfil with exactitude and spirit : you shall be my secret guide, the unknown spring of all my actions : your friendly smile shall reward, your appro- bation stimulate my exertions ; and whatever may be my fate, or my success, Clarentine never shall have cause to blush for the voluntary errors of the friend of her infancy — the imperfect copy, but the faithful reverencer of her virtues ?" He then, seeing her too much affected to be able to speak, kissed her hand, with an expression that equal- ly partook of tenderness and respect, and hastened out of the room. Though cheered by his fair promises, Clarentine was yet so sensibly touched by all that had passed, that she remained after he had left her, motionless and in tears, forgetting where she was, till roused by the re-entrance, from an adjoining room, of Mr. and Miss Manners. " What! is our young Sir Dolorous gone ?" cried the latter, gaily approaching her — Clarentine rising and walking towards one of the pictures, in a low voice answered in the affirmative, without venturing to look round. Miss Manners, perfectly content, thought of him no more, but the next minute began talking of other subjects, criticising the dress and appearance of every new comer, admiring the different paintings, yet scarcely looking at any one of them two minutes together, forming schemes of pleasure for the next 219 iiay, reproaching Clarentine for not staying with them longer, and wondering what her mother would find to say to all the stupid quizzes who were that morn- ing to call upon her. This thoughtless rattle relieved Clarentine, and gave her time to recover her usual tranquillity. They remained in the Gallery till a late hour, Miss Man- ners protesting she would not go home whilst there was any chance of finding the quizzes there, and then walked back to Albemarle-street. Somerset, released from his morning engagement, called in soon after dinner, and when Clarentine took her leave, w^ould not be denied the satisfaction of at- tending her home. In their w^ay to Hampstead, she acknowledged to him, with the ingenuous frankness that characterised her disposition, the meeting of the morning, and re- peated to him the honourable assm-ances Sir Edgar had given her, as well with regard to his future con- duct, as to the sentiments with which hereafter he designed to meet her. Somerset, with a heart so well formed to feel the value of this confidence and candour, expressed his gratitude in the most animated terms, and joined with her in uttering the sincerest good wishes for the re- turning peace of mind of one whom he knew was so justly dear to her. " As for Mr. Eltham," added he, with a smile, "the pride and resentment which your rejection oc- casioned, has, I plainly perceive, cured him complete- ly. Sir Edgar's self-conquest is solely the result of effort and principle — his is the effect of indignation. He speaks of you with extreme respect, but at the same time with a certain air of hauteur which amuses me extremely, and which, as it proved to me that his angry heart was but a secondary sufferer in the bu- siness, amused me also without scruple." " 1 have some design," cried Clarentine, with af- 220 iected gravity, " to make an experiment of this kind upon you ; I should be curious to know, upon being discarded, which would predominate in your mind, anger or sorrow." " Oh, my beloved Clarentine," cried he, snatching her hand, " start not such an idea to my affrighted imagination ! I cannot bear it even in raillery !" Clarentine drew away her hand, and with a laugh, said — " If you are so susceptible of a little irony, Mr. Somerset, what would you have done had you had such a gay creature as Sophia to contend with ?" " I should have been driven to distraction ; or ra- ther, as a lover, at least, I never should have contend- ed with her at all. The mildness and sensibility of my Clarentine suit far better with my temper than would that misplaced wit, which sports with the af- fections of the heart, and makes a jest even of the most serious feelings." " Ah," cried Clarentine earnestly, " if such is the levity of nature you ascribe to Sophia, you wrong her cruelly ! In the first place, she neither aspires, nor in fact possesses any claim to the character of a wit; and in the next, her disposition is kindness and bene- volence itself. Hers is all harmless and innocent pleasure, resulting from real gaiety of heart, and as totally unmixed with acrimony, as it is free from the most distant intention of offending." " I allow her every excellence," said Somerset, " you attribute to her, and yet," continued he, smil- ing, " if I had been seriously attached to her, and she had treated me with the careless volatility with which, whilst at Delmington, I often saw her treat Mr. Eltham, I much doubt whether, like him, I could with patience have endured it." "Yours is not a character," said Clarentine, "which like his would have called that volatility forth, and therefore upon you it would never have been tried ; it suits Mr. Eltham, however, exactly, and by amus- 221 ing, will contribute to attach him with far more con- stancy than a disposition less airy and less spirited could have any chance of doing." She then gave a different turn to the conversation, and soon after they stopped at Mr. Lenham's. The answer which Somerset expected with so much impatience from Lady Delmington, arrived at his house in town early on the fifth day after he had written to her. He was at Hampstead when it was delivered, but having left orders that whatever letters came for him in his absence should -mmediately be brought after him, one of his servants rode thither with it full speed, and alighted at Mr. Lenham's gate just as he and Clarentine were walking up to it, on their return from a morning visit they had been mak- ing to Mrs. Denbigh. Joy, hope, and rapture, animated the eyes of So- merset, and brightened his whole countenance as he received and looked at the welcome post-mark of this most ardently desired letter. Clarentine observed his emotion, and by a quick glance at the direction, ob- serving likev/ise whose was the hand that had writ- ten it, silently withdrew her arm from within his, and all consciousness and emotion in her turn, walked hastily into the house. In a few minutes, Somerset, with unabated exta- sy, followed her. She had taken refuge in Mr. Len- ham's study, which at tiiat hour of the day, he being engaged with his pupils, was almost always empty, and was there traversing the floor with agitated steps, when he entered and flew to her — " Oh, now!" cried he, seizing her hand and press- ing it with fervour to his lips, " Oh, now, best be- loved of my heart, I may indeed call you my own, my ever destined Clarentine ! All suspenses at an end, all doubts, all fears eternally removed, you are mine for life, irrevocably and solely mine! Read, dearest of creatures, read and confirm to me by one T2 ^ 222 kind look the transporting contents of this enchanting letter ! You said that upon these contents my fate should depend ; ratify that promise, and tell me you are all my own !" Gently disengaging herself from his hold, deeply blushing, yet attempting to laugh at his earnestness and unwonted impetuosity, Clarentine took the letter, and moving towards a chair, sat down to read it, So- merset placing himself next her. The consent for which Lady Delmington had been solicited was granted, she found, with the readiest alacrity, and the good wishes and felicitations to both parties which followed it were cordial and animated. The letter, however, was short though satisfactory, and ingeniously as Clarentine sought to gain time by- prolonging its perusal, she was at length compelled to own she had concluded it, and obliged to answer his eager supplications— " What can I say to you, Mr. Somerset ?" cried she, hesitating and embarrassed. " You do not sus- pect me of designing to recal the word I so lately passed ? Why then press me to speak? what would you have me add?" " That you will now," answered he, with warmth, " receive my faith immediately ; no one obstacle stands between us, but w^hoUy on your decision and on your mercy rests my hopes !" Clarentine, abashed and hesitating, still hung back^ and still evaded fixing any positive time, till Somer- set, no longer able to command his impatience, na- med himself so very early a period, that, rather than permit him, by her silence, to conclude the proposal met with her concurrence, she was forced herself to decide upon the last day of the following week. This concession gained, he then left her, all grati- tude and delight, and hastened back to town in order immediately to set on foot the necessary preparations for their marriage. 223 CHAPTER XXVII. THREJE days after this arrangement had been made, Clarentine was much surprised again.to receive a letter from Sophia — TO MISS DELMINGTON. Delmington-House, February 27. " When I sent off my last letter, I concluded that as we were to meet so soon, nothing was likely to oc- cur that could make me desirous of writing again ; I was mistaken, however, as upon a thousand occasions has happened to me before, and I feel that I must ei- ther once more relieve my mind by a little literary prosing^ or be accessary myself to its going wild. " Our two wanderers, Edgar and his friend, re- turned to us yesterday ; Heaven only knows xvhy they ever left us ; Mr. Eltham said it was to make some indispensible arrangements previous to a certain event, and Edgar assured us it was merely to bear him company. It is as well to seem credulous when people take pains to deceive you, and so, when they are by, I appear all faith and trust; but to speak ho- nestly, my own private opinion is, that they went for no other purpose than — to go to the Opera I — Strange that two rational creatures should travel so many miles upon such an errand! So it is, however, and to the opera they both hastened the very first night of their arrival. " There is a mild and gentle being in the world, whom you have occasionally heard me mention by the name of Clarentine Delmington, who not an hun- dred years ago, was an object of nearly equal adora- tion to both these operatical adventurers. With this fair creature, this perfect semblance of xvliite-robed 224 mni?c^A2c^— speaking soft and smiling sweet they met, on their way to some room or other adjoining to the theatre. Their feelings upon the occasion were rather awkward, since, in addition to the emotion which her sudden appearance excited, they had the pangs of envy to contend with ; for this lovely dam- sel, so relentless and so inexorable unto them^ was leaning with looks of cordial satisfaction, upon the arm of another man, which other man they had but too much reason to suspect was their favoured suc- cessor ! " O, what a treat it would have been to me to have seen this matchless triumvirate at the moment their eyes first met ! I except poor Edgar, hoAvever ; it would have given me nothing but concern to have witnessed the pain which he, I doubt not, felt : but as for Messrs. Eltham and Somerset, their counte- nances I think must have been delightful. To have pitied either would have been a farce ; one was upon the point of marriage with the chosen mistress of his hearth and the other, we must all allow, was in a yet more enviable situation, being engaged to such a Phoenix as your Sophia. Besides, Eltham, when he mentioned the circumstance, did it with an air so ea- sy and unembarrassed, that I venture to fiatt'jr my- self it made but little impression upon his mind : he met me not afterwards with one atom Kss vivacity or good humour, and appears not in ihe slightest de- gree more thoughtful or more depressed. All there- fore that his aspect testified, I imagine, was surprise, mixed perhaps with a trifling expression of offended self-consequence. The poor gentleman is still a lit- tle splenetic, I assure you, when that horrible word rejection comes across his mind ! How scon he means cordially to forgive you 1 know not; he seems more disposed towards it, however, than I once thought he ever would be ; and therefore I am not v;ithout hopes, that when we all meet I shall persuade him to take 225 you by the hand and ask you to be friends with him : pray do not refuse him, if you still mean to continue friends with ?;zc. " As for Edgar (who, by the way, my mother has no suspicion of your having seen) he never speaks of you without the extremest veneration and grati- tude. We have had a long conference together con- cerning you, and he tells me that your behaviour to him was truly that of an angel ! Dearest girl, how do I love you for your sweetness and sympathy to this best of brothers ! It has calmed his agitated mind, and been balm to his wounded heart. You have promised him, he says, your future friendship, your sisterly friendship ; you wept over the too faithful picture he drew of his long sufferings ; you spoke peace and affection to him — and with the kind- est advice, uttered the most benevolent gootj. wishes! Excellent and considerate Clarentine ! never can I sufficiently thank you for a softness so well timed, a tenderness that has been so beneficial ! " Rejoicing that this first meeting is over, he now assures me, that, although he can never see you with indifference, he shall henceforward see you without any of those tumultuous sensations which at that moment so nearly overpowered him. I sincerely hope his prediction will be verified ; but, meanwhile, cannot help feeling rather disposed to bear him a lit- tle malice for having hitherto so completely deceiv- ed me : I really thought him thoroughly recovered, for his behaviour to Lady Julia this whole winter has uniformly been so attentive, her own gentleness leads him always to address her with such softness, and he feels for her, I am convinced, so much inter- est and regard, that it seem to me impossible he should at the same time harbour such an ardent af- fection for another object. I suppose, however, his heart is very capacious as well as Mr. Eltham's ; I am certain, at least, it is very difficult to read. " I say nothing to you, my beloved Clarentine, of the letter my mother lately received from Mr. So- merset. The idea of next Tuesday puts me in such a fright for myself, I have no courage to speaks of the approaching fright which likewise awaits you. Lady Julia is so generous as to laugh at my dismay ; her own turn, however, will come next September, and then I hope to have gained spirits to retaliate the favour in kind. " Mrs. Harrington has at length vouchsafed to an- swer my mother's letter, and to answer it, also, with far greater civility to our friend Eltham than I ex- pected. His near relationship to Lord Welwyn, whose title she respects infinitely more than his character ; and his splendid fortune, which beyond even title it- self she reveres, induce her to silence every objec- tion she would otherwise, I am persuaded, make to the man^imself, and courteously to congratulate my mother upon Sophia's good luck. " Where shall you be, dearest Clarentine, the eighth of next month ? On that day we all expect to be in town. Lord Welwyn having consented, at his daughter's earnest request and mine, to set out at the same time Mr. Eltham and I do. Impatient as I shall be to see you, let me hope you will not, be- fore then, have left the neighbourhood of London to ramble to any very formidable distance with your new pilot ; tell him I shall be extremely angry with him if he steers his lovely prize into any remote har- bour, and that he may expect a whole fleet to be sent after him to win her back again. " Do I talk good seaman's language ? Ask him, dear Clarentine, and when he has answered you, cast your eyes once more upon this paper, and give me due credit for the sincerity with which I subscribe myself, " Your's most aflfectionately, and truly, " S. Delmington." 227 Previous to the receipt of this letter, it had been agreed between Clarentine and Somerset, that imme- diately on their marriage they should go down to his seat in Northamptonshire. This plan they still ad- hered to, determining, however, to make their ab- sence much shorter than was originally intended, for the pleasure of meeting sooner with the friends whom they expected, and on whose account they now de- cided to hasten back to town before the expiration of a week. Their deliberation upon this subject was scarcely concluded, when Miss Barclay entered followed by one of the maids, who, with a broad grin upon her lace, delivered to Clarentine a card saying, " Mrs. Manners's footman. Miss, has just brought that for you." Clarentine, wondering at her risibility, held out her hand for it and read aloud — Mrs. Manners, At Home, Thursday, March 4th, 9 o'clock. >•%' '^ At home V repeated the unpractised Clarentine, " and what then ?" " Lord," exclaimed Miss Barclay, contemptuously, " don't you understand what then ? Why, she means to invite you to some party on Thursday." "• Aye, Miss, it's true enough," cried the maid, who, accustomed to be treated by Miss Barclay with extreme familiarity, made no scruple when she was present, of ehaving with equal freedom herself, " for I asked the servant about it, and he told me Madam was to have a grand rout that day. For my part, I thought, maybe she had been to have come here, and so, not being well, had sent you that, to let you know she should stav at home,''- 228 Then, still laughing heartily at the odd conceit^ she left the room. Clarentine now turning to Somerset, said — " I am ashamed of betraying such rustic ignorance, but do pray tell me, is this really meant as an invitation V " Yes, really," answered he smiling. " And are the guests never told what they are in- vited to ? Whether to a ball, a card party, or a con- cert ?" " Dear, no ;" cried Miss Barclay, " its taken for granted one hears all that before one goes, among one's acquaintance." " But what," resumed Clarentine, " are those to do, who like me have no acquaintance r" " Why take their chance, and prepare themselves accordingly." " How prepare themselves ?" " Lord, why by carrying money in their pockets that they may be ready to play if asked, and by put- ting on light shoes that they may be equally ready to dance." " Thank you," cried Clarentine, bowing, " these instructions may be extremely useful to me." " You mean to go then?" said Somerset. " If I knew any lady I could go with, I should certainly." " Oh, if it depends only upon that," cried Miss Barclay, " / should like to accompany you of all things." Clarentine looked a little disconcerted, and Somer- set hastily rising, walked to the chimney. Miss Barclay thus went on — " I'll tell you what. Miss Delmington, you have but to write a bit of a note to Miss Manners, to say there's a young lady lives with you who wishes to be of your party, and Captain Somerset can send it to her when he goes back to town." **My dear Miss Barclay," said Clarentine mildly. 229 " you would not wish, I am sure, any more than my- self, to make your appearance at a great assembly, such as I presume this will be, without some married lady?" " Perhaps Mrs. Denbigh may have been invited'; I'll step to her house and ask her." Then without waiting for that encouragt-ment she saw it was hopeless to expect, she ran up stairs for her cloak, and set out alone for Mrs. Denbigh's. Clarentine and Somerset remained, after she was gone, looking at each other for some minutes in silent, yet half-laughing amazement, at an ignorance of the world, and a forwardness at once so conceited and so vulgar. Somerset wasr the first who at length spoke — • " Let not this strange proposal distress you, my Clarentine," said he, " I shall see Manners this even- ing, and will commission him to state the case to his mother and sister, and prepare them to expect your intruding companion." " Wait, however, till she returns," said Clarentine, " perhaps Mrs. Denbigh may not be going, and then I shall have an excellent excuse for declining the in- vitation myself." In less than a quarter of an hour Miss Barclay came back, calling out triumphantly as she opened the parlour door, "Well, Mrs. Denbigh is asked, sure enough, and means to go ; so now therefore. Miss Delmington, you have nothing to do but to write the note I told you of. Let me consider,'' added she, sitting down and looking very thoughtful, " next Thursday, isn't it i' Ay, I shall have time enough to get my new gown made, and Hannah Gibson pro- mised to pin me up a cap whenever I wanted one." " And who is Hannah Gibson," enquired Claren- tine. Vol. IL U 230 " Why, she was a school-fellow of mine, but her father died about a year ago, and left her so poor, she has bound herself 'prentice to a milliner in Cran- boum-alley. You can't imagine what tasty caps I have seen of her making ; all those that are hung in the shop window are mostly what she did up, and every body admires them excessively. If you like, I'll ask her to contrive one for you." " I am much obliged to you," said Clarentine, smiling, " but I beg you will not trouble her." " Dear, she's very good natured, and would think it no trouble, I daresay; however, we have time enough to think about that — do you write the note now." ••There is no necessity to write at all : Mr. So- merset has undertaken to carry a verbal message to town, which will do quite as well." Miss Barclay, perfectly satisfied with this arrange- ment, then left them, and flew to the head of the kitchen stairs to order one of the maids to run im- mediately for the mantua-maker. Somerset, who could not help being amused by the whole affair, and particularly by the obliging offer that had been made to Clarentine of applying in her behalf to the ingenious Hannah Gibson, staid only to remonstrate with her upon having rejected such assistance, and mounting his horse, which at that moment was brought to the door, rode back to town. During breakfast the next morning, Clarentine received a very polite note from Mrs. and M^ss Manners, expressive of the" pleasure it would give them to see her friend, and inclosing for her a card similar to the one that had been sent the day before, which they requested she would deliver in their names. Miss Barclay, whose rage to be introduced into 231 fashionable society was as unbounded as her qualifi- cations to shine in it were deficient, received this invitation with equal pride and rapture. In her own opinion secure henceforward of moving only in the most elegant circles, she enjoyed already in an- ticipation the envy which amongst her less fortunate acquaintance she should excite, and the wonder which she doubted not to inspire : even the tasty Hannah Gibson she now began to think unworthy of the honour of adorning her ; and recollecting acci- dentally to have heard the fashions of Cranbourn- alley a little derided, resolved to bespeak every part ©f her head-dress upon this important occasion from the more modish magazines that so abundantly sup- ply the neighbourhood of Tavistock-street. With this determination, as soon as breakfast was over, she walked alone to town, carrying with her, in addition to what remained of her own allowance, a painfull r-extorted half-guinea, the reluctant pro- duce of her mother's bounty. On her return, about half an hour before dinner was announced, not finding Clarentine in the parlour, she ran up to her room to impart to her the success of her expedition. " Lord, how comfortable you are sitting here," cried she, as she flung open the door — "as for me, I hav'nt a leg to stand upon ; I do believe I hav'nt walked less than eight miles: I have made some excellent bargains, however, and have bought the sweetest necklace and ear-rings you ever saw ! On- ly look," added she, taking a little box out of her pocket, and eagerly displaying its contents, " what a beautiful colour these beads are ; I got them next door to where I went about my cap — do vou like them?" ^ " I dare say," answered Clarentine evasively, "they will be very much admired ; but what success had you with regard to your cap ?" S32 ^' O dear, I did'nt buy any, for they told me it would be much better to choose something that I could pin on myself in the way of a fancy turban ; so 1 fixed upon a spangled gauze, and to-morrow I am to have some very smart ornaments sent home to wear with it." Clarentine was beginning to congratulate lier up- en having been able so well to suit her taste, when hastily interrupting her. Miss Barclay said, " Now I know you must have bought a great many new things against your wedding ; do let me see some of them : what do you intend to be married in ?" " Indeed," said Clarentine, colouring and half smiling, ''I have not yet thought about it." " No ? — well that's the oddest thing I ever heard of. In your place I should already have settled every individual article I meant to wear ; to be sure, however, you intend to go to church in white ?" To this, Clarentine, not very desirous of dwelling upon the subject, made scJme slight, careless answer, and then added, " Did you see any body in town whom you knew ?" " Yes, I saw Mrs. Hertford driving at an immense rate along Pall-Mali in a dashing new chariot : I wonder whose it was, and why she never let me know she was come home." " Ah," thought Clarentine, " there is no chance, I hope, of her making any advances towards a renew- al of her former intimacy in this house, whilst So- merset visits at it so often, and I continue to inhabit it." They were now called down to dinner, and an end was put for that time to Miss Barclay's interro- gations. The next day, however, Clarentine had all the fatigue to undergo of examining and praising the tasteless finery she had bespoke, and which (consist- 233 ing of gaudy ribands, shewy flowers, and coloured gauzes) arrived, to the great joy of the impatient ex- pectant, early in the course of the morning. Her discourse, throughout the whole afternoon, turned upon nothing but the most fashionable method of ar- ranging these various decorations ; and so completely did she even surfeit her mother upon the subject, in- different as she generally was to what was passing, that, at length, exerting an unusual degree of autho- rity, she called the maid, and in spite of all Miss Lucy's indignant remonstrances, very peremptorily ordered her to bundle all the taxvdry trumpery \n\.o a band-box together, and hoist with it up stairs di- rectly. Disagreeable to Clarentine as were these conten- tions, it was yet a relief to her upon the present oc- casion to be exempted from any further consulta- tions ; and the more so, as a few minutes after the removal took place, Somerset appeared at the gate, and entered the house. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE hour at length arrived so ardently desired by Miss Barclay, and so gladly hailed by Clarentine likewise, (who sickened of the very name of an as- sembly, was anxious to have it over) when thev were informed the carriage was at the door which was to convey them to Albemarle-street ; they stopped for Mrs. Denbigh in their way, and then proceeded im- mediately to town. On their arrival at Mrs. Manners's, Somerset U2 234 hearing their names announced, hastened out to meet them at the head of the stairs ; he reproached them for being so late (it was then considerably past ten o'clock), and directing them where to find Miss Man- ners, after they had spoken to her mother at the door, followed them across the room. The reception that was given to Miss Barclay in favour of the persons she came with, was extremely polite, and did honour to the considerate good-na- ture with which Somerset had taken the trouble to prepare them for her introduction : the flaunting shewiness of her dress however, particularly when contrasted with that of her companion, which was all simplicity, appeared among the young people who surrounded Miss Manners to excite a mixture of sur- prise and ridicule. Some shrugged their shoulders with an air of cold contempt, whilst others, after staring at her from head to foot with the most sted- fast curiosity, turned upon their heel with a half-stifled laugh, and tripped away to communicate their sar- castic observations to a different party. To all this, fortunately for her. Miss Barclay, at the height of her ambition, self-satisfied and elated, was totally insensible ; careless what the women thought of her, she scarcely noticed any of them ; but at the approach of every fresh gentleman w^ho addressed Somerset, her heart fluttered, her face as- sumed a complacent smile, and in the hope of exci- ting attention she instantly began a giggling sort of conversation with Clarentine, which lasted, with an afl"ectation of infantine vivacity, till, one by one, they again retreated, and she was left only with the ladies. Meanwhile Mrs. Denbigh, seeing them provided with seats and particularly attended to by Miss Man- ners, who, stationed next to Clarentine, scarcely spoke to any one else, consented, after some time, to sit 235 down to cards, and had just left them for that pur- pose, when Mr. Lea, smihng and bowing with all his wonted courteousness, approached tkem — *' This animal," said Miss Manners, in a hasty whisper to Clarentine as he advanced, ^' has taken it into his head to marry since you saw him ; I long to know which is his wife." Then turning to him — " How do you do, my dear Sir ?" cried she ; " I hope you have brought Mrs. Lea with you ? In what part of the room am I to look for her?" Mr. Lea, in answer to this, touched a lady's el- bow, who, with her back towards them, was conver- sing with a group of gentlemen at some distance, and on her turning half round said, " My dear, allow me, this is Miss Manners," and taking her hand, he drew her towards them, and in the person of his wife, dis- covered to the half-petrified Clarentine, and the no less wondering Miss Barclay, the form and features of Mrs. Hertford ! " Lord !" exclaimed Lucy, abruptly addressing her, " is it you ? Well, to be sure you have got over your disappointment pretty quick ! How long have you been married ? and when did you come to town ?" Mrs. Hertford, or rather Mrs. Lea, coloured, but made no answer to these blunt enquiries, contenting herself, after a formal curtsey to Miss Manners, who had risen at her approach, to bestow upon her late confidant a slight inclination of the head ; and then moving away again, she renewed the conversation her husband had interrupted. " Do you know the lady r" said Miss Manners in a low voice to Lucy. " Dear, yes. Madam, I have known her ever so long, and I can't imagine why she would not speak to me ; it's very impertinent, I must say, and I have 236 a monstrous mind to go and have a little conversation with her about it." " No, no," cried Clarentine — " for Heaven's sake do not think of it !" " What is it against which Miss Delmington is so earnestly remonstrating ?" said Mr. Manners, who with Somerset just then walked up to them. Clarentine, terrified, lest, in the hearing of Mr. Lea, who still kept his post near them. Miss Bar- clay should blunder out any untimely explanation, was upon the point of intreating her in a low voice to be careful of what she said, when she saw her sud- denly start up, and as Mrs. Lea was crossing the room to sit down, follow, and place herself next her. Miss Manners laughed, and leaning towards Cla- rentine said, " Is your friend going to quarrel with the poor bride ?" " 1 hope not ; but indeed it's very possible ; let me intreat you to go with me into the next room, for I could not bear to witness any scene of that sort." " Dear ! as I know so little of either of the parties, such a battle would entertain me extremely : how- ever, I'll go wherever you like." So saying she arose, and arm in arm they walked into the adjoining apartment. Somerset and his friend followed them, and the former seizing the first opportunity of speaking to Clarentine unheard, said, with some anxiety — " What drove you hither with such precipitation?" She explained to him as briefly as she could her reasons, and then asked him whether he had yet seen or spoken to Mrs. Lea herself? "No," answered he gravely, "nor do I wish it." Miss Manners now addressing her brother said, " Have you been presented to Mr. Lea's pretty wife ?" 237 " Yes ; the happy bridegroom did me that honour yesterday : I met him whilst I was riding out, and he insisted upon my going home with him -i^olely for that purpose." u Well ?" " Well — I beheld, admired, bowed, and retreat- ed." " Did not you like her then ?" " / had more reason to like her than her poor cringing booby of a mate, for at the same time that she treated him with the most ineffable contempt, she behaved to me with the utmost sweetness and complacency." " With contempt already !" cried Miss Manners. " Good God, then why did she marry him ?" *' Mr. Lea," answered her brother, drily, " is worth 1200/. per annum." " And was that the best reason she had for accept- ing him?" " Draw your own inferences from what you have heard," replied he ; and turning away, he walked up to another party. To Clarentine's infinite joy. Miss Barclay rejoined them no more till Mrs. Denbigh's game broke up, and Somerset's carriage, in which they were to re- turn, was announced. In their way to the outward room, whilst Mrs. Denbigh stopped a few minutes to take leave of some ladies of her acquaintance, Clarentine again perceiv- ed Mrs. Lea seated near the place where they were standing : she purposely avoided looking towards her, but hearing her own name mentioned, could not, with equal forbearance, resist giving some attention to what was passing. The person to whom she was speaking was a young man, who with his eyes fixed upon Clarentine, seem- ed to have been earnestly enquiring who she was—— 23S *' Whatever she is now matters very little," an- swered Mrs. Lea, in a half whisper, " since her rank and situation will in a few days be entirely changed." " Is she, then, going to be married ?" " Yes ; she forms a brilliant connexion with a man of large fortune, whom, after using extremely ill for many months, she at length, in the failure of two others, (a young Fa onet, and the nephew of an Earl,) condescends to accept." " She's a beautiful creature." " Yes, a pretty sort of a girl, somewhat haughty and vain, howev^er, but you animals contribute to spoil all these rural beauties by your unbounded flat- tery ; they are not used to such fine things, poor souls, when they first creep out of their caves, and if you had any mercy you would moderate the doses a little, and be content to turn their heads by degrees, rather than set them a spinning all at once ! As for little Delmington, her hopes were raised so high when she first left her native wilds, that it's ten to one if she does not actually give herself great credit for having had the humility to stoop to any thing un- der a Duchess's title ! These misses all come flocking lip to town with Lady Coventry's success in their heads, and while their milkmaid-bloom lasts, feel so secure of triumph, that they neglect or mismanage, the first three months, more splendid opportunities than they ever obtained afterwards with the best laid plans in the world." " Who is it she marries ?'» " Do you know Captain Somerset?" «' No." " That's him standing yonder with Mr. Manners — He's what grave and sage people call a worthy good creature, and what I call a fine young man, very ea- sy to be duped, however, very credulous, and very unsuspicious." 239 " Is that," said Mrs. Lea's friend, with a signifi- cant smile, " what the lady particularly requires ?" " Exactly,** answered she. Though Clarcntine, it will easily be supposed, lost many sentences of this charitable dialogue, she yet heard enough to tinge her cheeks with the deepest crimson, and to irritate her so extremely, that dis- daining herself for having listened to so much, she now moved abruptly towards the door, and waited there alone till Mrs. Denbigh and Miss Barclay were ready to follow her. During their ride home, Mrs. Denbigh, being fa- tigued, and Clarentine indignantly meditating upon what she had heard. Miss Barclay engrossed the con- versation almost exclusively. " Well, I declare,'' cried she, after they had pro- ceeded some way, " if an angel from Heaven had come down a few weeks ago and told me Mrs. Hert- ford could ever have behaved to me as she did this evening, could ever have married such a sneaking, mean, disagreeable looking wretch as that nasty little Mr. Lea, I should not have believed it! She used to take such pains to persuade me of her love for some- body else, used to talk so disinterestedly about it, make such fine parading professions of regard forme — and then, all at once, to accept such an object mere- ly for his money ; look at me as if she had never seen me before, and treat me with such pride and negligence ! To be sure it's a good lesson — and if ever in future I trust quite so much to people that spenk me so fair, I shall wonder!" ^' 1 am amazed to hear you talk of her thus," cri- ed Mrs. Denbigh ; '* I saw you sitting together and apparently conversing so amicably, that I concluded ycu were upon the best terms imaginable.** " No such thing, though I can assure you, she was cunning enough to get me to return to her every one 240 ©f her letters before she went to Bath ; and so as she has now lost all fear of me, and I never had any rea- son to fear her, we spoke out to one another pretty- plainly ! You may believe me or not as you will, but this I am sure of — she's a bad woman, and as artful and sly as a serpent !" As neither Mrs. Denbigh nor Clarentine chose to undertake her defence. Miss Barclay, exulting in the persuasion that she had carried conviction to their minds, and been the first to stagger their good opi- nion of Mrs. Lea, went on in the same strain with such perfect self-complacency till the carriage stop- ped, that short as the ride had appeared to her whilst thus employed, she could scarcely believe the coach- man had driven to the right house. CHAPTER XXIX. THE following day, which was now the only one that remain- d previous to the most important one of Clarentint's life, Somerset, who spent the greatest part of it at Mr. Lenham's, being alone with her to- wards the evening, said — " My Clarentine, I have been reflecting with re- gret upon the difficulties, which, at the distance that separates us, will prevent our seeing your beloved Madame d' Arzele as often as I know you would wish: can we fix upon no plan that might surmount these obstacles? would it be impossible to induce her to choose some habitation nearer to our own neighbour- hood?" 241 " Attached as she is," answered Clarentine, «' to her present cheerful, yet quiet little mansion, I should think it almost cruel, great as would be the happiness I should derive from her society, to draw her from it, unless I knew of any other we could re- commend as an equivalent for the one she would quit." " I confess," resumed Somerset, " that at this mo- ment I know of none such; but a very short time might enable me, with diligence and activity, to dis- cover one the very counterpart of that she now resides in : at all events, we could with ease prevail upon her to spend a few months in town every year, by means of making a proportionate addition to the little income my generous Clarentine has hitherto spared her, and which, after this day, she will have invested me with the right of increasing." " Dear and noble Somerset !" cried Clarentine, holding out to him her hand, the tears starting into her eyes — " Who half so generous, so considerate as yourself! We will discuss this subject, however, just now, no further : I owe so much already to your disinterested liberality, that I cannot bear at present any additional weight of obligation. When Lord Welwyn comes to town, talk the matter over with him : it is right that before we attempt to remove from him such a neighbour he should be consulted : if he approves your plan, we will then devise toge- ther the means of obtaining her sanction to it," Somerset, subscribing unhesitatingly to this deci- sion, now started a different topic, and remained with her till a late hour, talking over a variety of plans re- lating to their future way of life. In addition to Mrs. Denbigh, whose attendance Clarentine herself requested, she was accompanied to church the next morning, at that young lady's pres- sing solicitation, by Miss Barclav. Mr. Manners Vol. II. X 2A9 gave her away, and the ceremony was performed by the worthy Mr. Lenham ; after which, the travelling chaise that had waited for them at the door being or- dered to draw up, Somerset handed her into it, and instantly following her, they set out immediately for Northamptonshire. On the ensuing Tuesday, without waiting for a summons, they returned to town, and, driving post, reached Clifford-street before the close of day. Cla- rentine, without loss of time, despatched a note to Sophia at Mrs. Germaine's, apprising her of their arrival, and intreating to know when she could see her. The servant brought her back the following an- swer : MRS. SOMERSET. " Come to me, dearest creature, after breakfast, to-morrow. A convenient head-ach will keep me at home, and alone, the whole morning, as Mrs. Ger- maine is going about the town with Lady Julia and Harriet to shew sights, and Eltham has promised to be of their party. They know nothing of your re- turn, for I choose to have you entirely to myself the first three hours, and the expectation of seeing you might make them all take it into their heads to stay at home. " I write this in horrid haste ; just escaped from ^ drawing-room full of aunts and cousins, who have made my ears ring with congratulations, till they have almost stunned me. Adieu, dear Clarentine, "S. E." Somerset, to whom Clarentine, when she had read it, shewed this note, smiled as he gave it back into her hand, and said, " It is so evident, my love, your 243 pretty friend wishes for no third person to be pre- sent on your first meeting, that I shall defer my visit to her till evening, and leave you to make your om'u at what hour suits you best in the morning. If I endeavour, however, when you return, to draw from you the secrets of so mysterious an interview, you must not be surprised : husbands, you know, are privileged to be curious, and the privacy of this appointment is such as to excite mtj curiosity very strongly." " Are you aware," said Clarentine, with equal gaiety, " that by thus reminding me of your privi- leges you put me upon my guard, and teach me the necessity of being cautious ? Whatever I may hear, I shall now come home so well prepared to dissem- ble, that all your interrogations will be useless." At one o'clock the next day the carriage came to the door, and Clarentine getting into it, was driven to the house of Mrs. Germaine, in Portland Place. She was shewn up stairs on her arrival, and left an instant alone in a dressing-room, the door of which, however, was the next moment thrown open, and So- phia, sparkling with joy and breathless with eager- ness flew into her arms. " Who shall detain me," cried she, " when such a friend as this is here ? They are all below still, my Clarentine ; but hearing your carriage stop, before the servant could announce you, I rushed from them, at the hazard of breaking my neck, to see and to embrace you. There — do you hear ? Harriet is now shrieking after me ! begone, dear girl," added she, speaking from the landing place, " I told you before I could not go with you ; I am engaged — I am busy." Then hastily shutting the door, and fastening the bolt, she returned to Clarentine, and drew her to- wards a sofa, upon which she seated herself next her. 244 ** Since you are thus unwilling, my dear Sophia," said Clarentine, apprehensively; "that our confe- rence should be interrupted, I am very sorry I came so early. The carriage that brought me will infalli- bly betray us, for I gave no orders that it should drive off, and the party below must see it at the door." " O no ; I told one of the servants, as I ran through the hall, to dismiss it directly : besides, Eltham is gone out already, and he would have been the only one amongst them who could have known the li- very." " But why all these precautions, Sophia ? Why so much secresy ? Have we any thing very important to discuss ?" " Perhaps not ; but I don't choose to make you po- pular till I have exhausted all my store of family anecdotes. I am my own mistress now, Clarentine, or the deuce is in it ! and as long as I can, I am de- termined to save you the mortification of iDeing pre- sented to Mrs. Germaine. Oh, she is the most wea- risome, insipid person, by whom the world was ever surfeited ! A frolicking Mrs. Barclay in higher life, without half her vulgar originality, however, and consequently without any of her coarse entertain- ment ! I am amazed how Lord Welwyn could fix upon such a woman to be the guide of Lady Julia. She will racket the poor girl into a consumption in less than a- month, if she goes on as she has begun." " Have you, then, had time to go out much al- ready ?" " O yes ; we only arrived yesterday morning, and she dragged us, two hours afterwards, to a thousand different shops ; made a large party for the evening of her's and Eltham's relations; proposed this pretty expedition for to-day ; and takes us all out to dinner, and then to tea and cards, to-morrow." 245 "Is this perturbed lady very young ?" " No ; an emaciated, antique skeleton, worn out with dissipation and late hours !" " Dearest girl, what a comfortless house for you to reside in ! How long shall you be here ?'' " O, as short a time as possible, be assured. EI- tham has no great veneration for his amiable aunt any more than myself, and therefore I hope we shall get out of town by the latter end of May." "Alas! poor Sophia! Are you then to remain with her near three months T' " Indeed I fear so ; and, what is worse, in those three months she v/ill have given me such a thorough distaste to London, that I f;;ar I never shall be able to endure it again !" " Perhaps," said Clarentine, smiling, " there may be no harm in that : you had at one time formed such high expectations of it, that, had they been all realised, you might have become an absolute Lady Toivnley,^^ " It is by no means improbable," returned So- phia, " and therefore if you will assist me with a few philosophical arguments, I will endeavour to rea- son myself into a belief that my being consigned to this odious old f utter er is a very fortunate circum- stance." The subject was then changed, and Sophia, with her accustomed animation and good humour, was beginning to ask a thousand different questions, which she scarcely gave Clarentine time to answer, when hearing a quick step upon the stairs, she hastily said, with a look of vexation — " What now, I wonder, will those creatures linger at home all day ?" As she spoke, some one from Avithout attempting to turn the lock, but finding it fastened, called out in a voice which thev instantly knew to be that of X2 246 Eltham — "Sophia, will you not give me admit- tance ?" "Yes;*' answered she, moving towards the door — " but M'ho have you with you ? Are the ladies gone r" " They are ; and I am come to know why you did not accompany them : pray don't keep me standing here." "No, no ; let him in for Heaven sake ?" cried Cla- rentine, earnestly. Sophia laughed, and in a low voice, said, " will you be very civil to him if he comes in r" " Yes, certainly :" " And will you, Eltham," resumed she, speaking louder, " be very civil to my companion if I allow you to join us ?" " Your companion ! — Are you not alone then ?" " No ; I have an exceeding pretty little French milliner shut np with me. Shall you like to see her ?" "Yes, yes ; pretty or not pretty, open the door be- fore I lose all patience." Sophia did so ; and Eltham hastily entered, saying, " what ridiculous fabrication" — but starting at sight of Clarentine, he stopped short, and bowing to her with an air of mingled gravity and surprise, " I beg your pardon. Madam," cried he, " I knew not that you were here." " Nor did I intend," said Sophia, "you should know it ; I had a great many things to talk ox'er with her, and meant to have excluded all intruders the whole morning : since you have seen her, however, I insist upon it, Eltham, that you once for all throw aside those j)etrifyii^.g formal looks, and speak to her with the freedom and cheerfulness of an old acquaint- ance. There, go, and wish her joy on her marriage, and beg her to return the compliment." Eltham, who could not forbear laughing, com- 247 plied, however, with the best grace he was able, and takhig Clarentine's hand, which he bowed upon as he spoke, paid his compliments to her in terms equally unaffected and well-bred. *^This is as it should be," cried Sophia, who, with looks of pleasure, had attended to the little ce- remony. " You have acquitted yourself perfectly well, Eltham, and I now give you notice that whilst we are in town, this dear creature, as often as I can prevail upon her to let it be so, is to make one in all our parties, and to live with us as much as it is in her power. It was highly necessary, therefore, you will allow, that all your sour faces should disappear, and that, cordially and sincerely, you should shake hands, and determine to meet as friends. You know the old ballad, Eltham? •* Tom loved Mary passinjj \vell, " But Mary she loved Harry." Remember, however, that in future you are to love no other Mary than me ; though you are to be civil to them all. Ay, and to the Harrys too ?" Then bringing to him his hat, which, on his en- trance, he had thrown upon a table, she put it into his hand, and gently pushing him towards the door, added, " Now make us one of your • best bows, good friend, and don't let me see you again till dinner." " 1 will go, I think," said Eltham, laughing, " and pour my complaints into the sympathising ears of Captain Somerset, from whom, since 1 presume he is no better treated than myself, I have not any doubt of obtaining the utmost commiseration. Shall I," continued he, addressing Clarentine, " have any chance of finding him at home this morning?" " I left him there, Sir," answered she, " when I came out." 248 " Don't you mean, then," said Sophia, " to keep your appointment with Mrs. Germaine and Lady ?" Juli " No, your brother is gone with them, and there- fore I reserve myself for some other occasion." He then bade them good morning, and left the room. Clarentine, who could not but applaud the part her rattling but sensible little friend had acted, and who sincerely rejoiced in the certainty she now had of being henceforward always treated by Eltham with friendly unreserve, staid with her till the return of Mrs. Gerfnaine and her young companions. The delight with which she was met by Lady Ju- lia was evident and flattering, and the warm attach- ment which had subsisted between them she saw with gratitude remained unaltered and undiminished. As for Harriet, incapable of experiencing any strong affection, she made no attempt to evince greater plea- sure than she felt, but accosted her with unmeaning kindness, and congratulated her with tranquil civi- lity. From this period to that of their leaving town, the day seldom passed in the course of which these long- tried and mutual friends did not meet. Somerset, as an additional gratification to his lovely bride, sought by every means in his power to draw Madame d'Arzele a fev/ weeks from her solitude to join their happy circle, but his endeavours were vain : devoted to her children, and thankfully content with her peace- ful residence, no solicitations could succeed in de- taching her from either even for an hour, or in de- termining her to accept any increase to the annual hundred pounds she still continued to receive from the hand of her niece. Of the Barclays, during the spring, Clarentine saw little. The mother, less ambitious of mixing with the cultivated and the elegant, than of keeping up 249 her intercourse with the jolly associates of her accus- tomed amusements, made no efforts to force herself into their parties ; and the daughter receiving from most of them a reception which might almost be termed repulsive, after the first two or three unsuc- cessful experiments, renounced the attempt, and re- signed herself again to her former intimates. With regard to Mrs. Denbigh, however, and Mr. I.enham, the case, it will be believed, was widely different. Revered and beloved, not only by Claren- tine and Somerset themselves^ but by every friend within the circle of their acquaintance, they were received with delight whenever they appeared, and visited with respect by all whom they would admit. In the disappointment of the sole view which had induced her to form so precipitate an engagement, the interested and artificial Mrs. Lea found the pun- ishment of her unprincipled conduct. Irritated by her neglect, and too well convinced of the sordid motives to which he owed her hand, her husband, cancelling a will he had made in her favour soon after their marriage, drew up another unknown to her, in which he left her a bare subsistence, and con- signed the bulk of his fortune to a distant branch of his family. This change effected, he supported with her a wretched existence about three years, and then by his death reducing her to the same state of indigence he had drawn her from, she was compelled once again to seek an asylum abroad, where neglect- ed, soured, and repining, she spent the remainder of her days. Lady Delmington, in the prosperity, good conduct and happiness of her children, found the reward of all her maternal solicitude. Sir Edgar, restored to himself and to his friends, became the ornament and honour of his family, fulfilled all the hopes his early acquirements had promised ; and in his mild and interesting partner found a companioff^vhose faithful tenderness conciliated and secured all his own. Playful yet affectionate, Sophia, by the excellence of her temper, and the sprightliness of her conversa- tion, preserved the influence her good humour and her frankness first gained her over Elthara's heart. Both thoughtless, but both generous and well-inten- tioned, their attachment was permanent and sincere, and their happiness seldom ruffled by any storm this attachment, and their mutual gaiety, did not dissipate the next hour. Of Clarentine and the long-chosen owner of her heart, blessed with domestic felicity and possessing minds that taught them how to prize it, nothing fur- ther can be added, than that their lives were as ho- nourable as their names were respected. i HK END, :^